


Somebody to Lean On

by xcourtney_chaoticx



Series: Brothers and Sisters [1]
Category: Emergency!
Genre: Domestic Violence, Everyone Needs More Chet, Family Feels, Family History, Gen, Stalking, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-22
Updated: 2014-11-01
Packaged: 2018-02-18 08:20:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 25,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2341508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xcourtney_chaoticx/pseuds/xcourtney_chaoticx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"John never liked going on domestic disturbance with injury calls... He liked being able to help these people, of course, but these kinds of runs always left him feeling uptight and angry. He knew Roy felt the same way, probably worse because he had a wife and kids of his own. No one else at 51 liked them, either. John would see Cap and Stoker narrow their eyes, Marco shake his head, and Chet tense up a bit, clenching his fists slightly. This call, however, sent the blood draining from Chet's face; he must have recognized the address."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Call On Me

**Author's Note:**

> "Chet's heart thumped quickly as the squad rolled back into the bay... His stomach had bottomed out when he heard [his brother] Tommy's address came over the speaker for a domestic disturbance with injuries. A hundred scenarios raced through his mind, each worse than the last and making him so ill he was afraid he was going to throw up."
> 
> This story deals with stalking and violence associated with stalking and so has been rated accordingly. I have done my best to research everything, but if there's anything wrong, don't hesitate to tell me. I will be more than happy to fix any factual issues.
> 
> There will be a fair amount of language and violence in later chapters. Another warning will accompany that chapter. I'm being as safe as possible with the tags to avoid triggering anyone.
> 
> This is my first multi-chapter for Emergency, so please be gentle. I do like constructive criticism though.

John never liked going on domestic disturbance with injury calls. He remembered too much from growing up, hearing screaming matches and seeing women and children he knew covered with bruises they vehemently denied were from fists. He liked being able to help these people, of course, but these kinds of runs always left him feeling uptight and angry. He knew Roy felt the same way, probably worse because he had a wife and kids of his own. No one else at 51 liked them, either. John would see Cap and Stoker narrow their eyes, Marco shake his head, and Chet tense up a bit, clenching his fists slightly. This call, however, sent the blood draining from Chet's face; he must have recognized the address. John and Roy couldn't worry about Chet, though, hurrying out to the bay and hopping in the squad, grabbing the address from Cap.

The house was a nice one, not too far away from the station and easily recognizable as their destination by the two squad cars out front, uniforms on the lawn, and a very agitated young woman waving her arms.

"…you even listening?!" the woman was shouting, "I told you what happened! That creep doesn't understand what 'over' means! His name is Wheeler, Alexander J, age twenty-two, and if he comes around here again, I'm sure gonna make him regret it!"

"Miss, please calm d-"

"He came over here and walloped me in the face! Or did you happen to miss the big ol' shiner I'll be sportin' for the next two weeks? I don't wanna be calm, dammit, I wanna see him arrested!"

"We understand that, but we can't arrest him until we find him. Plus, in order for him to be prosecuted for even simple battery, it has to be proven that he came over here with the intention of hitting you. We'll do everything we can, I can promise you that, but I can't make any promises beyond that. Understand?"

The young woman had calmed slightly, now slumping defeatedly, saying, "Yeah, yeah, I know the drill," and running a hand through her dark curls. A man with short, dark hair stood at her side protectively. John's first instinct was new boyfriend, but after a closer look he settled on older brother. They both looked a bit familiar…

"Sis, the paramedics are here," the man told her.

"I don't need any paramedics," she grumbled.

"Yes, you do. You're bleeding everywhere. Now, let them treat you."

She grumbled some more, retaliating by simply plopping down in the grass and pouting, though she let Roy and John approach. Her right eye was already swollen almost shut and beginning to turn a dark purple. A small laceration bled sluggishly at the inner corner of the bruised eye. There was blood in her mouth, as well, and another bruise forming around her left wrist.

"Wanna tell me what happened?" Roy prodded gently, starting on her vitals.

"My creep of an ex-boyfriend doesn't get it when I say we're over," she told them, "Come over to take me for lunch so I told him to buzz off. Well, he didn't like that too much. What you see is the result of-" she turned to spit out blood, "-the result of his _not understanding_."

"Well, all your vitals look good," Roy explained, "so a trip to Rampart probably won't be necessary. Just wait here and let John look you over real good while I call the hospital, and we'll see if we can keep you outta Rampart today."

She nodded and spit out some more blood. John continued some basic treatment, applying gauze and bandages to her facial laceration and the laceration to the inside of her lip.

"He's lucky," she muttered around the gauze.

"Really? And how's that?" John asked, wanting her to talk more to make sure she was alright.

"I didn't have time to get my baseball bat. If I woulda had my bat, I woulda made him damn sorry he came around."

"Planning on hittin' a homerun with his head?"

"Something like that."

"I have no doubt about that. Can you tell me your name, miss?"

"Charlotte Rose Kelly, age twenty-one. People call me Charlie."

"Well, Charlie, I think my partner's right. No trip to Rampart for you today. Pretty sure I can clean everything up and get you on your way, 'specially now the bleeding's stopped. Sound good?"

"Sounds good."

John set to work cleaning the wounds and bandaging what needed bandaging, though he could only offer another wad of gauze and some antiseptic for the lip. He also told her to ice the lip and the eye to keep the worst of the swelling down. Charlie thanked him and allowed herself to be pulled to her feet. It was then that she squinted at him at him, then Roy, then the squad, and back to John.

"Say, I think I know who you are," she said slowly, "That says Station 51, right?"

"Yeah…"

"I can't believe I didn't realize it before now, but I guess I was a little preoccupied. I've heard about you guys from my brother. He's a fireman at 51."

There was a brief moment before everything clicked.

"Are you telling me that Chester B. Kelly is your _brother_?" John exclaimed.

"John, what are you over here yellin'-"

"She's Chet's sister, Roy!"

Roy's eyebrows shot up. He turned to look at Charlie and, after a beat, said, "You poor thing."

Charlie gave him a look, saying, "Ha ha. Look, would you call him for me? He may be a pain, but he's my big brother, and I know he's worried about me. He always worries. Please, would you tell him I'm alright?"

Roy agreed and went to call from the squad while John stayed with Charlie.

"Chet never told us he has a sister," John blurted.

"With a bunch of single firemen around, I bet you wouldn't tell 'em if you had a sister, either. I mean, he's pretty private about private stuff. Doesn't like to let people too far in. Course, you knew that…"

She looked down at her feet, scuffing her bare toes through the grass. Charlie Kelly seemed like a pretty nice person and did remind John of Chet. She certainly didn't deserve to get treated like this. She was right, of course. John knew very little about Chester B. Kelly, just little snippets he could pick up from the others and what he would say about his basic day-off activities in the last three years. He remembered Chet taking some time off about a year-and-a-half ago and was pretty sure he'd heard Marco saying it was something to do with his mother. Chet was back after three weeks, though, acting like his normal self, so John had forgotten about it. Beyond that, John really knew nothing about Chet's personal life.

"Hey, Chet wants us to bring you to the station, Charlie," Roy announced, "Said Cap cleared it. Just grab what you need, and we'll head back."

"I could just walk there, y'know."

"No you don't," her other brother told her, "Not with Wheeler still out there. Come on and pack a bag. It should have enough for at least a week. Chester probably wants you to stay with him now."

"Well, he's more likely to scare Alex off than you are, Tommy. You don't exactly cut an intimidating figure."

"Oh, just shut up and go pack your bag. Gage and DeSoto are waiting."

Charlie started grumbling again, but she went inside as she was told. John couldn't say he had a problem with the view as she left. Tommy piped up, "She's right, of course. I couldn't even help when Wheeler came by earlier. The only thing I could think of to do was call the police. I mean, she was putting up a fair fight, don't get me wrong, but I do feel bad for not being of much use helping her. She and Chet were always a little wild, and they've always been close, so I know he'll take good care of her… better than I can. Sorry, sometimes I just start talking when I'm all nervous. I just go on rambling…"

"It's alright. Chet just yammers on whether he's nervous or not," John remarked.

Charlie emerged finally with a duffel bag, having donned a pair of sneakers, baseball bat in hand. She bid her brother farewell and hopped into the squad between John and Roy in case they got a run in the meantime. No such run came, and the few minutes back to the station were quiet and just a bit too tense for John's liking. Chet was waiting for them in the bay, clearly pretending to do something with the engine with Mike and Marco. John helped Charlie out of the squad, then he and the others beat a hasty retreat out of the bay to give the siblings some privacy. John didn't even try to eavesdrop.

xXxXxXx

Chet's heart thumped quickly as the squad rolled back into the bay. He'd probably been polishing the same spot on the engine for twenty minutes, just waiting. His stomach had bottomed out when he heard Tommy's address came over the speaker for a domestic disturbance with injuries. A hundred scenarios raced through his mind, each worse than the last and making him so ill he was afraid he was going to throw up. Hearing that his little sister didn't need to go to Rampart was slightly comforting, but knowing she'd been hurt in the first place was infuriating.

He was startled to actually see her black eye and bruised jaw when John helped her out of the squad, and the sight made his blood boil. He waited until everyone had mercifully left the bay to approach his sister, immediately trying to double check John and Roy's work. Charlie swatted his hands away, muttering, "I'm fine…"

"Yeah, Charlotte, you sure look fine with that shiner," Chet retorted.

"Dammit, Chester, stop-"

"What did I tell ya about that Wheeler guy, huh? Didn't I tell ya he was trouble?" Chet bowled over her, pacing between the emergency vehicles, "I told ya to get rid of his sorry ass because he was trouble! You shoulda dropped him when I told ya-"

"I did! I dumped him as soon as you said I should, and that was two months ago! This cat just won't get the hint! This was the tenth time he's come around since then tryin' to get me back, but I won't go because I remember what you said. He never got violent before today."

"Why didn't you tell me this was happening?"

"So you wouldn't go to jail for kicking his ass. I know you, Chet, and if I woulda told you he was hangin' around and buggin' me, you woulda went after him, and my favorite brother would be in jail."

He finally stopped pacing, instead resting against the engine. Charlie stepped closer to him.

"I'd rather be in jail than see my-my baby sister with a black eye."

"Funny, I seem to remember getting a black eye from _you_ once," she smirked.

"That was an accident. It's different," he replied, "I just… look, why don't you come live with me for a bit while this thing blows over? Tommy's a good guy, but he's an accountant for a bank. People ain't exactly afraid of him. Someone like me, on the other hand…"

"You're not _that_ intimidating."

"I am _terrifying_ , thank you very much."

Charlie snorted, and Chet looked her over. Sometimes she looked just like she did when they were kids, but at others he was startled to see she was really an adult, a young woman and not a little girl. She looked a lot like their mother, both she and Chet bearing her dark hair and round face and standing a bit on the shorter side, though their eyes were a matching shade of light blue inherited from their father. Charlie and Chet had always been close. Tommy was quiet and careful, very responsible and mature, even as a kid. Brian was angry and rebellious though still quiet, acting out in small ways that tended to pile up quickly for a whole lot of trouble. Chet and Charlie were the wild children, always loud, always bordering on obnoxious, but overall good kids, taking in pride in proving people wrong in the best ways. Mark and Catherine Kelly took great pride in their little brood and made sure they knew it. It had been a pretty great life.

Chet looked down as Charlie laid her hand on his. She must have been reminiscing, too.

"I'm serious, Charlotte," he told her quietly, "I think you should stay with me until they catch Wheeler. Did you think about getting a restraining order against him?"

"That won't help. A restraining order's just a piece of paper. He'll ignore it."

"But they can arrest him if he violates it. That'll get him away for a little while, right? Maybe make him change his mind?"

"Nah, man, he's not right in the head. He's obsessed with me. A night in jail ain't gonna fix that. Dude needs psychiatric help," she explained, "Anyway, the cops wouldn't be able to do anything unless they caught him in the act."

"What, he's gotta put you in the hospital before they'll do anything?"

"I guess so, but I'm okay."

"For now," Chet grumbled.

He wished he could get his hands on Wheeler. Chet once beat a kid to hell for giving his sister a shove on the playground. Wheeler deserved much more than a beating.

"Look, I'd be happy to stay with you, and not just to make you feel better," Charlie said gently, "Stayin' with Tommy was getting boring, anyway. He's a big ol' stick in the mud."

Chet huffed at that, saying, "Good. Cap made the executive decision to let you stay overnight. You'll have to sleep on the couch, and you may get woken up a bit, but at least I'll know you're safe. You won't have to worry about Boot, either. He won't bother you none."

"Boot? What's a 'Boot'?"

"Oh, Boot's kind of our mascot here at 51. Cute, scruffy, little dog wandered into the station one day so we decided to keep him around. Great dog. You'll love him, I just know it. He knows all the classics: sit, stay, roll over, play dead. You'll really like him," Chet stated, "You'll like the guys, too."

"Well, I know I like John and Roy. They took very good care of me."

Chet opened his mouth to say something but interrupted by a series of tones: big fire at a railyard. He heard the others scrambling to get ready. He quickly ushered his sister into the rec room, saying, "Stay in here and don't answer the phone unless it's me."

"How will I know it's you?"

"I'll…uh, I'll let it ring twice, hang up, and call again, okay?"

Charlie nodded.

"Kelly!"

"Good, now stay here, I mean it. There's leftovers in the fridge-"

"KELLY!"

"-and feed Boot in an hour if we're not back!"

The engine was actually in motion when he jumped on, stammering an apology into the cab to Cap and Stoker as he settled in his seat beside Marco.


	2. Swallow Your Pride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Chet watched until the tail lights disappeared around the corner. He turned to go inside when he heard a rustling noise in the bushes and went to investigate, thinking maybe it was a raccoon or something. Chet took a few steps toward the noise. Something crashed out of the bushes, charging past him and heading for the road. Chet gave a shout and made a grab for the figure but missed. He shouted again, hearing the guys come out, and he started down the street after the figure."

Charlie puttered around the station while the guys were gone, heating up some leftovers for herself and making sure to feed Boot. The scruffy little mutt trailed after her wherever she went (including the bathroom) and sat with her in the rec room, curling up next to her on the small couch while she scratched his ears and belly. Every channel was carrying coverage of the big fire at the railyard, so she watched it even though it set her heart racing. She was almost thankful she couldn't see any faces or names as the firemen ran among the railcars, trying to keep the fire from spreading to some cars that were apparently carrying dangerous chemicals. She didn't want to know when her brother and his friends were in danger, but she sure wanted to know when they were out of it. The phone rang once or twice, but she ignored it if it kept going after two rings.

The guys had been gone for three hours and the sun down for one when the phone rang twice, stopped, and started ringing again. Charlie lunged for the phone, answering, "Chet? Chet, are you alright? Where are you?"

_"Yeah, I'm alright," he told her, "We're at Rampart now."_

"Rampart? What happened?"

_"Well, uh… y'see, fires like that are pretty crazy sometimes, take a while to handle, 'specially when there are trapped workers like we had today, so… Johnny and Roy were doin' a rescue on some railmen and, uh… well, Johnny got himself injured. Now, he's alright, just dinged up a little. We're getting' ready to leave now. Dr. Early wants to keep him for a bit just to make sure he's alright."_

"Chet, what happ-"

_"Look, Charlie, I'll explain everything when we get back. We're fixin' to leave now. We'll be there soon, okay?"_

"Alright… alright. See ya soon. Tell John I hope he feels better."

_"Will do, sis."_

He hung up. Charlie sighed and put the phone back on the receiver, muttering, "Firemen," and shaking her head. Boot made a little noise behind her.

"Is this the kinda shit you put up with around here, Boot?"

He barked. She heard the engine and squad return about twenty minutes later, the guys grumbling and growling and complaining. Chet came into the rec room, visibly relaxing when he saw Charlie on the couch with Boot.

"Some welcoming committee you two are," he groused, "We been at a fire, saving lives, and you can't even get up to say hi."

"You told me not to leave the rec room," she reminded him.

"Alright, then you get a free pass tonight."

"How magnanimous of you, Chet."

"I try. Look, we're all hittin' the showers, so just stay in here 'til we're done," he told her, "I don't want my baby sister seein' anything she shouldn't."

"Hey, I'm 21, I can see anythi-"

" _Then_ ," he interrupted, "I wanna talk to you about something."

"Okay. I'll be here waiting."

"It's not bad."

"What's not?"

"The thing we've gotta talk about."

"Did I say it was bad?"

"Most people hear that and assume it's something bad, so I just-"

"Chet," she said over him, "look, go take a shower. You smell like smoke and sweat and you're gross. I'm not going anywhere, and I'm not worried. Just… just clean up and come back."

He chewed his lip under his moustache, then nodded and slumped off to wait for the shower. Charlie returned to lavishing attention on Boot and waited for Chet to come back. Roy DeSoto was the first to shuffle into the rec room, still toweling his hair dry. It took him a moment to realize she was sitting there.

"How are you feeling, Charlie?" he asked with a smile.

"Oh, I'm alright, just a little sore, is all. What about you?"

His smile faltered slightly. He said, "Fine. Not looking forward to seeing who they give me to replace Johnny. I mean, you can't replace him, which is the point. I just hope it's not Brice. Guy gets on my nerves worse than Johnny."

"Yeah, John seemed pretty nice. He was great when he was treating me. Calmed me down, kept me talking, all that stuff. You guys looked like you worked together really well."

"We all work together well here," Roy told her, "You kinda have to in this line of work or some pretty bad things can happen."

"I guess so… Mom always worried about Chet doing this job."

"Yeah, so did mine, and my dad and my wife and my sister-"

"I can imagine," Charlie laughed.

Roy offered her a brighter smile and sat beside her and Boot on the couch.

xXxXx

Chet paused outside the rec room, watching Charlie and Roy chat together like they'd known each other for years. Charlie was always better than him at making friends. Chet would talk too much or about the wrong thing and get people irritated, while she made conversation look easy, like there was nothing to it. Chet and Charlie may have been a lot alike, but there was no question as to who people tended to get along with better.

"You thinkin' about what we said, Chet?"

Cap's voice appearing suddenly made him jump a little, but he should've expected it. He probably should've heard Cap come up behind him. Chet ducked his head, saying, "Uh, yeah… yeah, a little."

"Well, you'd better tell her now," Cap told him, "It'd be better if she didn't spend the night here in case we get an unexpected visit from one of my superiors."

"Yeah, I know," Chet mumbled, scuffing at the floor with his boots.

"It's the best plan for everyone, Kelly. We agreed on it."

"I know," Chet repeated.

Cap clapped him on the shoulder and walked off, leaving Chet to take a deep breath to prepare for this conversation.

"There you are, Chet. I thought you slipped down the drain," Charlie smiled, "You wanted to talk?"

"Well, that's my cue," Roy said, starting to get up.

"No, Roy, would you stay?" Chet asked, "Help back me up?"

Roy nodded, "Sure thing, Chet," and settled back onto the couch, while Chet grabbed another chair so he could sit in front of his sister. _Great, now she looks worried. Way to go, Chet, some big brother you are._

"Look, Charlotte… well, I know Cap said earlier that you could stay, but you really shouldn't. Breaks a buncha rules and regs and stuff. You probably shouldn't even have been here for as long as you have been. Now I get off tomorrow at about eight, work the day after next and Tuesday. Then I'm off Wednesday to Saturday. For now, though, especially tonight, I don't want you alone with that Wheeler cat still out there, still lookn' for you and tryin' to-… I just don't want you alone."

"I understand that."

"And you can't go back to Tommy's because he'd know if you went back."

"S'pose he would."

"Exactly, uh… yeah. Exactly. Well, remember earlier when I told you that Johnny got hurt today?"

"Yeah. You said the doctor at Rampart wanted to keep him for a few hours to make sure he was okay," Charlie answered, "What, did he get worse?"

"No, he's fine," Roy jumped in, for which Chet was extremely grateful, "He's just a terrible patient. Can't follow the medical advice he knows he should. Usually when he gets hurt like this, I have him stay at my place for a day or two, then send him home when I think he won't hurt himself more. Just so happens that my wife took the kids to see her parents this weekend, so there's no one there 'til Sunday evening. Well, we were talking at the hospital, and we figured since you need a place to lay low for a bit, and John needs someone to keep an eye on him-"

"-you want me to stay with him until this gets sorted out," she finished.

"Now, don't you worry," Chet piped up, "he's gonna keep himself in line. If he tries anything, you just tell me and I'll-"

"Oh, Chet, he won't do anything to me," Charlie said.

"But if he does-"

"Look, Charlie," Roy interrupted, "we're just tryin' to make sure that you're both okay. Johnny's got a dislocated shoulder and a sprained knee, so he's gonna have trouble getting around for a bit. You need to lay low and give this Wheeler guy some time to cool off, and he doesn't know John from a guy on the street. When we talked it over at Rampart we all thought it was a pretty good idea for everyone involved."

Chet watched his sister think it over. He hoped she wasn't angry, that she didn't think they just wanted to use her as a nursemaid or a babysitter. She never wanted to be anything like that, even when they were kids. _I just want you safe, sis. That's all._ He could see her working it over in her mind. Finally…

"Well, I s'pose it wouldn't be too bad. I'm not workin' just now anyway… and if it'll help John out…"

"It'll protect him from himself," Roy huffed, "Like I said, he's an awful patient."

"Come on, Charlie," Chet said, helping her up, "Now, Johnny drives this old Land Rover, I know you can handle it, so you're gonna drive to Rampart to pick John up and take him home. He'll tell ya how to get there. If you can make him spaghetti at least once, he'll be your best friend forever, like givin' scraps to a puppy. Anyway, keep an eye on him."

"I will, I will. If he looks at me funny, I'll be sure to give him a good whack with my bat. Chet, I'll be alright. Stop worryin' about me."

"Why? You worry about me plenty."

"Yeah, 'cause you go runnin' into burning buildings and chasin' fires and shit. I just wait tables and fix the occasional car."

"True, but guys take a shining to you, and that's worrying to me."

He gave her John's keys and a change of clothes from his locker and walked her out the Land Rover, saying, "Call the station when you get to John's, no matter what time it is, okay?"

"You got it."

Charlie gave him a quick hug and climbed into the Land Rover; Chet watched until the tail lights disappeared around the corner. He turned to go inside when he heard a rustling noise in the bushes and went to investigate, thinking maybe it was a raccoon or something. Chet took a few steps toward the noise. Something crashed out of the bushes, charging past him and heading for the road. Chet gave a shout and made a grab for the figure but missed. He shouted again, hearing the guys come out, and he started down the street after the figure. Someone stopped him, grabbing him from behind and holding him back. Chet struggled fiercely against whoever it was, sending them both crashing to the ground. A voice yelled, "Kelly! Goddammit, Kelly! Cut it out!"

Chet hurled a rock at the retreating figure, missing by inches.

"Get this idiot inside," Cap spat, " _Now_ , Stoker!"

Chet found himself pulled to his feet and dragged into the bay, shouting, "No! He's gettin' away! Lemme go! _Let me go_!" and struggling against Stoker's grip. Once inside, the din was nearly overwhelming, with Cap and Chet shouting and Roy and Marco trying to calm everyone down. Cap grabbed the front of Chet's shirt and pushed him up against the wall, pinning him there. Chet was still seeing red, his chest heaving against Cap's hand.

"Fireman Kelly, this kind of behavior _will not_ be tolerated, _do you understand_?" Cap ground out.

"Cap, it was that creep Wheeler lookin' for my sister! Wheeler-"

"I don't care who it was!" the captain snapped, "I don't care if you saw _Hitler_ in those bushes! This behavior is _unacceptable_ , and I _will not_ put up with it! You are an LA County Fireman and goddamn adult, Kelly. I suggest you act like one."

Chet was certain he'd never seen Cap that angry before. He forced himself to breathe deep, to calm himself. Cap was right, of course. This kind of behavior wouldn't help anything. CPT Stanley ordered the others to turn in, then told Chet, "My office. _Now_."

He followed his captain into the small office and stood in front of the desk while Cap sat behind it. Shame washed over Chet at last, making him unable to so much as look up from his shoes. He could feel his face growing hot while Cap let him stew. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Cap heaved a sigh, saying, "Kelly, look, I know you're having a rough day what with this business with your sister, but that little scene just now was completely uncalled for and inappropriate. You know that."

"Yessir," Chet mumbled.

"I want you to look at me when I'm talking to you," Cap told him calmly, waiting for him to look up before continuing, "I should suspend you for that fit you just threw outside, should send you home, but I'm afraid if I do, that Wheeler kid's gonna end up in the hospital and you in jail. If you're here, at least I can keep an eye on you and try to calm you down."

"But Cap, I wouldn't. I wouldn't go after the kid. I just wanna be sure-"

"-your sister's safe," Cap completed, "I know that. We all know that. You're a good guy, Kelly, but you're awful hot-headed right now and you're not thinking straight. Your sister will be alright with Gage. This kid doesn't know Gage or where he lives. Besides, I think she seems ready to use that bat should push come to shove."

"John may be a stand-up guy, but he ain't exactly at a hundred percent right now. If Wheeler showed up and-and busted into his apartment, he wouldn't be much good-"

"Dammit, Chet, you know Johnny would die before he'd let someone else get hurt," Cap said over him.

He was right… again. John may be a goofball, but he was a good guy, one of the best and definitely much better than Chet. If there was anyone at Station 51 Chet could trust to keep Charlie safe, it was John Gage.

"Sit down, Chet."

Chet did as he was told, dropping into the chair, feeling exhausted, scrubbing at his face with his hands. Cap leaned over the desk, his expression very near to paternal, and said quietly, "Everything's gonna be alright. Now, I know I'm not gonna see behavior like that again, right?"

"Yessir."

"Promise me."

"Yessir, I promise."

"Good. Go turn in, Kelly."

"Can I wait up for a bit? I asked Charlie to call when she got to John's."

Cap thought about it for a moment, then agreed, "Wait 'til she calls… but turn in as soon as you can."

Cap rose from his chair, and Chet followed suit, receiving a clap to his shoulder. _I have to believe it when Cap says it'll be alright. I have to._ He wandered into the rec room to wait by the phone.

xXxXx

"Here we are, Casa del Gage," John said as Charlie helped him into his apartment.

"Yeah, well looks to me like Casa del Gage needs a little help," she replied.

John frowned and looked around the small apartment. Sure, it was a little cluttered, but it wasn't filthy.

"Just looks lived in, is all," he stated, "I mean, it's not like it smells or nothin'."

"True, but it's the point of the matter, like right there. You just have a pile of records. Not even in a milk crate for cryin' out loud. Just got records layin' all over."

She settled him on the couch as she said this. John opened his mouth to reply, but she cut him off, saying, "Hang on a minute. I gotta call Chet."

He pointed toward the phone, watching her walk into the kitchen with mild interest.

"Hey, Chet… yeah, we're okay…I'm fine… no, John's behaving… yup, I packed enough for a week… well, if I need to, I'll make him give me change for the laundry… yeah… no, I won't go back to Tommy's… yes, I promise… look, we're alright, Chet, go turn in. You're a growing boy and need your sleep… 'kay… yup… I will, I promise… 'kay… love you… yeah… bye, Chet. Night."

She was chewing her lip when she came back into the living room, and if John didn't know better, he'd say she was nervous. _What does she have to be nervous about? I gave her my scout's honor I'd behave, so it's not me. Wheeler can't find her here 'cause he doesn't know me from Adam… so why? Why is she nervous?_ He remembered the run to her brother's house earlier, the house she'd been living in, a big beautiful house his CPA's salary could afford, and he felt a flush creeping up his neck. _Christ, after living there, this must look like a hovel to her…_

"Uh, well, Charlie," he stammered out, clearing his throat, "I know what you're probably thinking about, uh, about the apartment."

"What, that it needs a good clean?"

"No… no, well, yeah it does need some tidying up, but no… that it's, uh, that it's small. See, I'm tryin' to save up for-"

"Oh, John, I don't care about the size of your apartment. It's fine. The house we grew up in wasn't anything spectacular. Hell, I only got my own room because I was the only girl. Anyway, the doctor said you should get plenty of rest, so you go to bed, and I'll sleep out here on the couch-"

"No, you're the guest, you get the bed-"

"I'm not the one who's injured-"

"But you are injured-!"

"Look here, John Gage, you _will_ be sleeping in your own bed," Charlie told him sternly, "Your shoulder and knee sure won't appreciate you sleepin' on a couch, and my injuries aren't nearly as severe as yours. Plus, if you're anything like my big brother, I definitely _do not_ want to be in that bed."

"Hey, what's that supposed to mean?" John asked indignantly.

"You're a single guy. I only imagine how many girls you've, uh, brought back here, if you dig what I'm sayin'."

John couldn't think of an argument that wouldn't make him sound stupid, so he snapped his mouth shut. Charlie laughed, saying, "Come on, John, let's get you ready for bed. Maybe if you're a good boy, I'll tuck you in and tell you a bedtime story."

"Oh, now you're a comedian, great, " he grumbled as she helped him to her feet.

She laughed again but held his good arm as he hobbled into the bathroom, where Charlie made a crude joke about not helping him in there that made John snort loudly. Once he was done in there, Charlie helped him into his bedroom and into a pair of pajamas.

"Thanks a lot, Charlie. I really appreciate the help."

"Oh, don't worry about it."

"No, I mean it. You didn't have to do this for me."

"Well, neither did you. You didn't have to agree to me staying here with you. I'm afraid you'll find I'm a pretty poor nursemaid. I can't cook. I'm bad at cleaning and worse at doing dishes. I'm fairly obnoxious, generally difficult to work with, and I tend to talk too much."

"So basically, you're tryin' to say you're a lot like Chet," John quipped.

"Yup. Always have been. Come on, John. Go to sleep. You deserve it."

"Thought I was gonna get a bedtime story."

"I forgot. I'm bad at those, too."

It was John's turn to laugh, giving a quiet chuckle and saying, "Night, Charlie. Couch folds out."

"Thanks, John. G'night."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm hoping Chet wasn't OOC. I think he has the right to be more than a little salty over what's happening, and I feel like he may be prone to overreacting when it's somewhat called for. Had to throw in some papa!Cap, too. Please let me know what you think!


	3. I'll be Your Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He hung up, and Chet leaned against the counter in the mess, trying to calm down enough to pretend he wasn't scared out of his mind. _Why? Why does shit like this always have to happen to us? What, are we never supposed to be happy for too long?_ Everyone had quietly excused themselves from the mess while he was on the phone… everyone except Roy.
> 
> "Chet turned to Roy, ready to lie, to slap a goofy grin on his face and spit out a joke but found he couldn't. For once, he found himself telling the truth."

Charlie found she slept fairly well on the pullout couch, waking late Sunday morning to John brewing a pot of coffee. _This was easier than the other morning, when we eyed each other awkwardly for the whole freakin' day._

"You should've woke me up, John," she yawned, rubbing her eyes carefully, "I'd've woke up and helped."

"No worries. Usually, Roy makes me stay at his place so Joanne can watch three kids instead of two," he replied, pouring himself a mug of coffee, "Before that, I just kinda had to handle it myself."

"You don't have any family around here to stay with?" she asked.

"Nope. My aunt and uncle have a little ranch outside the city, but when I'm hurt enough to need lookin' after, I can't drive there, and they have too much work there and can't leave. I just have to grin and bear it, all on my lonesome."

"Don't make it sound so wonderful."

"Hey, that's the single life. Coffee?"

"I thought you'd never ask."

John passed over the still steaming coffee, the mug bright red with the LAFD shield on either side, and nudged the cream and sugar toward her.

"Don't suppose this comes with breakfast?"

"Not if you wanna live," John replied.

"Well, if you got eggs, I can scramble some up. That's one thing I can do well, scrambled eggs. Never too wet or too dry," Charlie offered, "Can I tempt you?"

"I think you just did."

Not long after, the two of them were seated on the pullout, watching the noon news and eating scrambled eggs. Charlie told bad jokes about the stories, while John made up voices for the footage. John reminded her a bit of Chet, warm-hearted and funny and goofy. Chet often talked about the guys he worked with in high terms, and Charlie knew that he genuinely liked and looked up to them. She recalled him saying John was gullible and somewhat naïve, but that if he was hurt, he wouldn't want anyone else to treat him. That said a lot.

"Chet's told me a lot about you guys," she said aloud, looking to John.

He looked away from her, down to his lap, and a flush crept up into his face.

"He, uh… I hate to say it, but he never mentioned you to us," he mumbled.

"Yeah, you said that the other day," she told him, "It doesn't really surprise me, of course. He's one of those people that talks a lot but says very little. Never liked people knowin' his personal business too much."

"Yeah, I've noticed that."

Charlie shrugged, saying simply, "He's just always been like that, especially after Dad died."

"Really? I didn't know that. What happened?" John asked, "If-if I can ask…"

"He died in an industrial accident in '58. I was six, and Chet was thirteen. The doctor told Mom he died almost instantly, that he didn't suffer, but it didn't change the fact that she was now a widow raising four kids. They sent our mom money every month for the death benefits, but it wasn't really enough. Chet never really wanted anyone to know when we were struggling, so he learned to talk to people without really speaking. We all did, I guess."

"No, I know what you mean about that. I bet you learned to pretend, too, so people would leave you alone and not ask dumb questions."

"Yeah, like asking if you're okay, exactly," she agreed, "You've lost someone, too."

"Yeah, my parents died in a car accident when I was seven. Got raised by my aunt and uncle on a ranch."

"Sounds better than a cramped house in the city."

"Hey now, I never said it wasn't cramped," John replied, "I had six cousins, four boys and two girls, so I made number nine in that house, and it wasn't huge. Shoot, we only had one bathroom."

"One bathroom for nine people? That's pretty crazy."

"Yeah, we set up a nice schedule we rarely followed," John quipped.

Charlie snorted quietly at that and got up to clean the dishes, telling John no when he asked for a beer and bringing him a cola instead.

"I mean, really, John? You know better-…"

Her voice trailed off. John was frowning slightly, his brow furrowed. Charlie approached slowly, handing him the cola though he said nothing, and sat beside him.

"You said there were four kids, right? You and three brothers?" he asked slowly, "Where's your other brother? You've only mentioned Chet and Tommy."

Charlie looked away, chewing her lip. _Opened your stupid mouth too wide again, Charlotte. Walked yourself right into that one._ Above her, John swore quietly, saying, "Dammit, Charlie, I'm sorry. I'm always… Just can't keep my mouth shut."

"No, no, it's alright. You couldn't have known. Look, it's-"

There was a loud knock on John's door. Both John and Charlie swore, scrambling to get up, which made John swear again.

"Go hide in the bathroom!" John hissed.

"Wha-? Why?"

"In case it's Crazy, why else? It'll look like I had a hot date instead of a sleepover. Now would you hide?"

Charlie hustled to the bathroom, listening at the door and peeking out. John limped to the front door as someone pounded on it again.

"I'm comin', I'm comin'! Hang on a minute! Who is it anyway?"

"Uh… I, uh… neighbor. I'm-I'm a neighbor. Could you open up?"

"What for?"

"For… uh, the phone. I need… can I use your phone?" the muffled voice replied.

John pulled open the door. Charlie bit back a gasp.

xXxXx

John's supposed neighbor was a weasly-looking guy, skinny and hunched and sporting a bruise on his jaw. His longish blond hair looked washed but unkempt, and his brown eyes darted to and fro, like he was looking for something. _Or someone. There's no way this cat is anyone but Wheeler._

"Phone's in the kitchen," John said pointedly.

"Sorry, I… it looks like I interrupted something," the kid stammered.

"Nope, the something was last night. This was an after-something, so I'd appreciate if you'd hurry up," John told him, then repeated, "Phone's in the kitchen."

This guy was definitely off, twitching violently when the bathroom door opened. John resisted the urge to roll his eyes. _Why doesn't anyone ever listen when they're told to stay put somewhere? Charlie better not be about to do something supremely stupid. Unless she's gonna do what I think she's gonna do…_ The kid picked up the phone, saying, "I've just gotta call my friend and make sure… uh… he-he made it home alright. He was pretty wasted last night."

"Hey, you don't look so great yourself there, pal," John told him quickly, "Think you probably had a little too much last night, too. Why don't you sit down and rest for a minute so you don't throw up everywhere."

"But, m-my friend-… what if he's… if he… uh, he might-"

"Aw, it can wait another minute or two while you get yourself together and drink some water. You want an aspirin?"

"N-no, I'm fine, really, I just-"

There was more movement, this time from the bedroom back into the bathroom. _Really? You couldn't just stay in the bedroom?_

"You sure don't look alright," John said slower, stalling for more time, "See, I'm in medicine, so I know when someone isn't well. Have you had any symptoms of illness recently? Fever, chills, nausea, aches? Anything like that?"

"Wha-What? No! I'm fine! I told you that!" the kid squeaked.

"You sure? I mean-… well, I don't wanna worry you," John drawled.

"What are you talking about?"

"Weeelll, it's just that it looks to me like you may be coming down with a bad case of influenza. Little too pale, shaky, twitchy, all that. I mean, if you're doing fine, there's no reason to worry too much, but I seem to see a few of those symptoms. Could be anemia, though. Would explain the pale skin. Have you seen a doctor recently? You probably should. Could be a whole host of issues, y'see, and I'm not entirely qualified to make a diagnosis, so a trip to your physician would be-"

There was another knock on the door.

"Mr. Gage? Would you please come to the door?"

_Good job, Charlie. Did just what I expected you to._ Two uniforms stepped into the apartment, and the kid turned beet red, shaking, enraged.

"Alex Wheeler, we received a trespassing complaint from this residence," one cop said, "We're going to have to ask you to leave. If you choose not to leave of your own free will, we'll make you leave."

"I won't! I wasn't trespassing! He let me in!" Wheeler shouted.

"Yeah, under false pretenses you gave me," John explained, "so I don't want you here anymore. You lied your way in here, and now you're payin' for it."

"Even if he let you in, it's his residence, and he can ask you to leave at any time. If you refuse to leave, it becomes trespassing. Now, I'll ask you again. Please exit the residence."

"No! He didn't call! He couldn't call! I saw him the whole time!"

"It's true, I didn't call personally, but my girl did. I'm glad she did, matter of fact. Now, why don't you go with the nice, uniformed officers here, and they won't haul you outta here in cuffs," John smirked.

Wheeler did not take too kindly to that at all. His face purpled.

"She's here!" he howled, "I know she's here! My Charlotte's here! He stole her from me! Give her back! GIVE HER BACK!"

"I don't know who you're talkin' about, pal. There ain't any Charlotte here. My girl's called Miranda. I've never even dated a Charlotte, and I tell ya, even she was here, I couldn't give her back. Choice is all hers."

One of the officers hauled Wheeler away after he threw a punch at John that John easily dodged, while the other officer remained in the apartment. When the coast was clear, Charlie emerged from the bathroom, shaking but defiant.

"So is he actually going to jail this time now that I've proved he's stalking me?"

"Well, he's definitely going to jail, though it's for trespassing and resisting arrest. We'll see if he decides he wants any more charges on the way to jail. In the meantime, I think it would be a good idea for you to get a restraining order against this guy."

"Oh yeah, a piece of paper is really gonna help."

"They can be enough to keep someone away."

"Only if the offender cares about it."

"It'll be easier to arrest him in the future if he violates the order in any way," the officer explained.

"Yes, his arrest will be a wonderful comfort to me when I'm in a coma or dead," Charlie quipped.

"Officer, I'll see if I can talk her into it," John piped up before Charlie could further disparage the criminal justice system, "This was just a very upsetting experience for both of us. I'll do what I can to convince her."

John saw the officer to the door, thanking him for coming so quickly. When he turned to face Charlie again, he found her at the phone in the kitchen.

"Who are you callin'?" he asked.

"Who do you think? My brother needs to know what just happened," she said.

"Why, so you can worry him to death?"

"Because he deserves to know! He's family! It's his right!"

John sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair. Charlie was right, of course. Chet had every right to know to that Wheeler knew she was there, that he really had the only right. He told her so.

"It'll just take a minute," Charlie said, dialing the station.

xXxXx

Chet looked up as the phone rang and Marco stated, "I'll get it… Hello, Station 51. This is Lopez… Yeah, hang on… Chet, it's your sister."

Chet almost knocked over his chair.

"Charlie, you okay? Is everything alright?"

_"Look, I need you to be cool, Chet."_

"Be cool? I don't like that, Charlie. What happened?" he asked, his voice low.

_"Wheeler figured out where I am. He came to John's a little while ago,"_ she explained carefully, _"I dunno how he figured it out, but he did. John distracted him while I called the cops, so he'll be in jail for at least twenty-four hours, but they can't hold him forever on trespassing."_

"Did he hurt you?"

_"No, I'm fine, all thanks to John. Told me to hide in the bathroom and pretended he'd had a hot date with some chick named Miranda. The cops hauled Wheeler out, and he was howlin' about knowin' I was there. I know he couldn't have seen me, but I think he did. He did know I was there. He musta followed me or something, but I don't know how…"_

"He was here the other night, Charlie, here at the station. Pervy little creep was hidin' in the bushes. I chased him off, but… damn, he probably saw Johnny's Land Rover. There aren't too many like it around."

Chet heard his sister swear quietly on the other end of the line. _I shouldn't have told her that. It'll just worry her more._ He continued, "What did the cops say?"

_"Told me to get a restraining order, as usual, but I don't see how it'll help, Chet. It's just a piece of paper-"_

"Get one. Get John to take you to the courthouse and file one as soon as we get off the phone. A restraining order can do a lot. He'll have to stay away from you, get rid of any guns he has-"

_"Only if he respects it! This cat is crazy, remember? He's not gonna pay any attention to it!"_

"Look, Charlotte, just get one. It won't hurt anything to have one, even if it's temporary, like twenty days or something like that. Get John to serve him, or I can ask one of the guys here at the station to do it."

_"He's gonna be pissed when he gets it, though, and he'll still be pissed when he gets out."_

"Maybe… but maybe it'll give him the hint to leave you alone. Charlie, please, would you do it for me?"

She sighed on the other end of the line but agreed, _"Alright. Alright, I'll do it, Chet."_

"Good. I'll let you go so you can get it ASAP. I promise, as soon as those four days start, I'll come and get you, okay?"

_"Okay… love you."_

"Love you, too, sis. Hey, could you put John on for me?"

_"Sure thing. Hold on a sec…"_

There was a slight crackle of static on the line as Charlie offered the phone to John and some noise as it changed hands.

_"Hey, Chet. Johnny."_

"Johnny, I need you to do me a big favor."

_"Yeah, what is it?"_

He repeated the highlights of his conversation with Charlie while John listened quietly on the other end of the line.

_"Sure thing, pal. We'll go right away."_

"Thanks, John. I… I really appreciate it."

_"Anything to help out, Chester B."_

He hung up, and Chet leaned against the counter in the mess, trying to calm down enough to pretend he wasn't scared out of his mind. _Why? Why does shit like this always have to happen to us? What, are we never supposed to be happy for too long?_ Everyone had quietly excused themselves from the mess while he was on the phone… everyone except Roy.

"You, uh… you wanna talk about that?" he asked, gesturing toward the phone.

Chet turned to Roy, ready to lie, to slap a goofy grin on his face and spit out a joke but found he couldn't. For once, he found himself telling the truth.

"He found them."

"What?"

"That Wheeler cat, man," Chet answered, "He figured out where John lives which means he must know Charlie is there. He was actually in John's apartment, Roy."

"They're not hurt, are they? They're alright?"

"Yeah, yeah, this time. John was smart enough to know Charlie would call the cops on Wheeler's ass and stalled for time. They arrested him for trespassing and resisting arrest, but he'll probably be out as soon as he makes bail. No idea what he'll do then…"

"What if your sister went and stayed at my place, with Joanne and the-"

"No way, Roy, I couldn't," Chet interrupted, "If he decides to do somethin' real crazy-… I can't put your family at risk, and Johnny and Charlie wouldn't want to, either."

Roy didn't reply, simply leaning up against the counter beside Chet, who continued, "I told her to go get a restraining order. Hopefully that'll keep him occupied for a bit, maybe give him the hint that it's over."

"Yeah, hopefully," Roy agreed… sort of.

"You don't sound very hopeful."

The paramedic shrugged, saying, "I'm just agreeing that I hope it works."

"There's a 'but' in there."

"Look, Chet, I just…. Restraining orders aren't all-powerful. Sure they provide for an easier arrest in the future if the guy violates the order, but that's only if he's caught. Even then, he might only have to pay a fine for the violation."

"Boy, you're a real comfort," Chet grumbled.

"I'm just tryin' to be honest with you, Chet," Roy replied, "It's not what you wanna hear, but I think you need to hear it. It's just reality."

Chet sighed and scrubbed at his face. He sometimes forgot Roy was just a year older than he was. The other man was just so calm and mature and generally had some pretty good advice, and he was always prepared to simply listen if a friend had a problem. _He's right again. Truth hurts, but I gotta swallow it._ Chet sighed again, muttering, "Yeah, yeah, I know… I just… I just wanna-… I dunno, man…"

"You just wanna be sure your little sister's safe. I get that. You've been there to protect her her whole life, and you don't wanna stop now… but she is an adult now, Chet."

"Don't remind me. I'm really tryin' to forget it."

Roy chuckled at that, saying, "I'm sure I'll feel the same way when Jenny's all grown up a hundred years from now, like I'm sure Joanne's father and brothers did when she married me."

"Nah, you won't have to worry about Jenny. She'll have better taste," Chet smirked.

"Watch it, pal. That's my wife you're makin' fun of," Roy said, giving Chet a nudge with his elbow, "Look, all I'm saying is that maybe Charlie needs a chance to look out for herself. You won't always be around to protect her."

"Especially doin' this job…"

"Exactly. Give her the chance to prove herself. I think she'll surprise you, Chet."

Chet opened his mouth to reply, though he wasn't entirely sure what to say. The tones cut him off, calling them out to a structure fire. He and Roy hustled out to the bay, pulled on their gear, and Chet took the day's events and forced them aside. He couldn't be distracted at the fire, or people would get hurt.

"Come on, Kelly, get on that hose!" Cap called out.

Chet obeyed, focusing his full attention on the task in front of him.


	4. Share Your Load

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Chet had let her tag along with him wherever he went, and she knew that was something special, so she did her best to be a good baby sister. She was never annoying, never nagged, never tattled, never cried, never acted like a baby. Charlie ended up becoming a sort of mascot for her brother and his friends, there to proclaim how great they were (especially Chet) and show how much Chet had taught her. Eventually, she just became another part of the gang when his friends simply expected her to tag along... With Chet, she felt wanted and had fun. There was nothing more a little who'd lost her father could ask for."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is a little slow. That's what happens with the middle sometimes. This chapter is mostly background information, but I promise it'll pick up by the next chapter. Enjoy!

John still felt apprehensive as they pulled up to his apartment complex, even though he knew Wheeler would be in jail until the next morning. _He could have friends around informing for him or something._ He stayed on high alert until they got into the apartment and locked the door behind them. Charlie stood in the living room, fidgeting slightly.

Wheeler had not been happy when served with the restraining order, according to Mike Stoker, who so graciously offered to serve the papers. John and Charlie waited just outside the holding area while Mike served Wheeler, so they both heard the screaming and swearing and threats of violence. Charlie remained still and silent while Wheeler hurled insults at Mike (who likely remained stoic as ever).

"It wasn't anything special," Mike told them after, "Cops had to restrain him when he made a grab for me… uh, he tried to spit at me, I think. Threw him down pretty good, and I think he'll be in for the night again."

John wouldn't say anything to Charlie, but Wheeler's threats had him worried. He looked to the young woman standing in his living room and sighed.

"What was that for?" Charlie asked.

"What was what for?"

"That sigh you just heaved. You're not the one being stalked and threatened, last time I looked."

"No, but you are, and I'm the one who's supposed to be keeping you safe. Haven't really done such a good job so far…"

It was Charlie's turn to sigh and say, "Look, I shouldn't have dragged you into this, John. You don't deserve this. Maybe I should call one of my girlfriends to see if-"

"Nuh-uh. No way," John told her, "Chester B. would kill me if I let you do that."

"But-"

"Charlie, I want you to stay. I'd feel better about this if you did, and so would Chet. Now, you're a grown woman and can make your own choices, but just think about it, would ya?"

She looked away, fingering the hem of her t-shirt and chewing her lip. He didn't think he could blame her for wanting to leave to keep him safe. _If I were the one being stalked and threatened, I would want to be sure the people I care about were safe._

"Look, Charlie," he told her slowly, "if you do go to one of your girlfriends, there's the possibility he might find you there, too, At least if you stay here, there's no one else who can get hurt besides me and you."

Charlie sighed again, scrubbing at her face in a way that reminded John of Chet.

"You're right," she muttered defeatedly, "you're right, of course."

"Course I am. Now… now, why don't we just hang out and relax and think about what we want for dinner, huh? Let's see if there's somethin' good on the tube…"

John limped over to turn on the TV, then to the kitchen to retrieve two beers, passing one to Charlie and stretching out along the pullout they'd been too lazy to fold up. He groaned as he straightened out his knee, burning pain radiating out from the swollen joint.

"You alright? You need your pain meds?" Charlie asked.

She rested her hand on his shoulder, her expression concerned. John replied, "Nah, I don't like 'em all that much. Make me all fuzzy and shit. Plus, you'll take my beer away."

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely. I been beat up worse than this before, and I probably will again. I can kinda get a feel for how I'm feelin' this way, too. Now, just relax. We're alright."

Charlie was chewing her lip again. He laid his hand on her arm, saying earnestly, "Hey now, we're alright. I'm not gonna let anything happen to you. I promise."

"You can't promise that."

"I can. I promise you I'll die before I let anyone hurt you."

"And I promise that I'll die before I let you get hurt because of me."

"See, then we're all sorted out. Now think about what you want for dinner. I'm startin' to get hungry."

Charlie slumped against the back of the couch beside John, mumbling, "I dunno. Get whatever you want."

"Well, I don't wanna pick something you don't like, so-"

"Do you think this is my fault?" she blurted.

"You're kidding, right?"

"Do I look like I'm kidding?"

John needed a moment to process that information, which was (to him) entirely ridiculous. He told her, "Charlie, this dude is crazy. He's wacko. If it wasn't you, some other poor girl would have to be dealin' with him, probably someone who wouldn't be able to deal with this as well as you have. He could've done this to anyone, but it just so happened it was you. You did the right thing when you dumped him, and I sure hope he gets the hint and stays away. If he doesn't… well, you just get that bat ready to knock some sense into him, and we'll take him on."

She snorted, saying, "The bat's always ready for that. He's gonna get a rude awakening next time he comes around."

"Let's hope he doesn't. Now, come on, I'm makin' dinner. What would ya like?"

"Really? What can you make for dinner?"

"A phone call. Menus are in the drawer by the stove."

That time she laughed, and John had to say he liked the sound. He couldn't help but watch her as she walked into the kitchen. Charlotte was a pretty girl, with her dark curls and light blue eyes and rosy cheeks. She wasn't built too bad, either: small waist, full hips, nice chest. If he hadn't promised Chet he wouldn't, he might've started putting the moves on her.

"You know, John, you really oughta learn how to cook," Charlie told him, returning to her seat beside him on the pullout.

"Yeah, says the girl who can't cook," he retorted, smirking.

"I'm serious. Times are changin' everywhere, and women these days are lookin' for a man who can cook. Women are starting to work more, and they want someone who can share the household workload. I'm just sayin' that if you learn how to cook, you could land yourself a nice lady for a wife."

"Who says I want one?"

She shrugged, "Hey man, whatever you like. I'm not gonna judge."

"Aw, come on, I didn't mean it like that!"

Charlie laughed again, a rich, cheerful sound that brought a smile to John's face.

"Alright… what about… Chinese food for dinner? I haven't had it in forever because Tommy's on some health nut craze. Just rabbit food for _months_."

"Really? Then I'll just make sure to spoil you good."

xXxXx

"So, what did you mean when you said you don't wanna find yourself a good wife?" Charlie asked calmly, shoving more noodles into her mouth, "Thought all men were out lookin' for a pretty little woman to clean up after them and cook and have their babies… and then do all that other stuff for those babies."

John shrugged, popped a piece of chicken in his mouth and replied, "Just don't wanna. Not just now anyway. I might change my mind in the future, but for now, I just wanna have fun, hang out with some cool chicks, just do whatever I wanna do, y'know. Maybe I haven't found that 'right woman' yet. Maybe I never will."

They lapsed into a comfortable silence, eating a bit more of their dinner, when John asked her, "Well, what about you, Charlie? You lookin' to settle down anytime soon?"

"Not really," she answered honestly, relieved she could share this with someone, "Men are always looking either for a nursemaid or a mother. They don't want a woman who talks back and has ideas and knows what she's lookin' at when she lifts the hood of a car. I'm not into that whole marriage scene, really. I'm more than a baby factory or a housewife. I wanna be somebody."

Charlie had always bristled at being asked about boys and marriage and children. It was fine for other women, sure. What they wanted for themselves was up to them alone, so if all they wanted to be was a housewife and mother, wonderful. If a woman wanted to be a rocket scientist and a mother, good for her, and if she wanted to be a wife but not a mother, that was fine, too.

"I can respect that," John said after a moment.

"I'm glad my brothers raised me, my big brothers and a strong woman for my mother," she told John, "They never made me feel like I wasn't good enough because I was a girl. Chet taught me how to ride a bike, how to fix it, how to drive, basic car repair, how to do donuts. He made sure I knew how to defend myself, too, how to fight, climb trees and fences, do bike tricks… him and Brian were real good to me."

"Seems like you had some great brothers."

"I do. Don't get me wrong, now. Our mom was awesome. She did everything she could and more for us. That woman burned the candle at both ends for years to make ends meet and make sure we had enough. Y'know, we weren't rich, but we were happy."

John wore a small smile, one Charlie found she rather liked.

"Chet really cares about you, you know that?" John said quietly, "I can tell. When he heard your brother's address come over the PA, he went white as a sheet. He was worried sick about you. I know it."

"Yeah, me and Chet were thick as thieves when we were kids, even though he's a lot older," she smiled, reminiscing, "He let me trail after him and his friends all the time, like a little mascot. I think it was because he wanted to keep an eye on me, but I like to pretend it was because he thought I was fun to be around. It was nice to think my big brother wanted me around."

Chet had let her tag along with him wherever he went, and she knew that was something special, so she did her best to be a good baby sister. She was never annoying, never nagged, never tattled, never cried, never acted like a baby. Charlie ended up becoming a sort of mascot for her brother and his friends, there to proclaim how great they were (especially Chet) and show how much Chet had taught her. Eventually, she just became another part of the gang when his friends simply expected her to tag along. Brian was different. He tolerated her presence, made sure she had certain important life skills, but he generally didn't want her around at all. Charlie simply didn't like Tommy or his friends; they were all boring. With Chet, she felt wanted and had fun. There was nothing more a little who'd lost her father could ask for.

"Sounds like my cousins and me," John told her, "My aunt and uncle had six, with the oldest and youngest just about ten years apart. I fell pretty much in the middle. Their youngest was born the summer I came to live with them, a girl. They named her after my mother, 'cause my aunt was her sister. Jessamine Grace would follow me and Joe all over the ranch, the schoolyard, the rez, everywhere we went."

"Rez?" Charlie asked, curious.

"Yeah, short for reservation."

"You lived on a reservation? So you're… Indian? Native American?"

She tried to tread lightly, but she was pretty sure she'd never met an Indian before and she didn't want to insult John… _though Chet probably has at some point. He can be a real asshole sometimes when he's tryin' to poke fun._

"Well, technically, I'm only half-Indian," he stated matter-of-factly, "My mother was Oklahoma Seminole, and my father was white. My mother and aunt and uncle are all pretty much full Seminole, so my cousins are, too. Wasn't a big deal there on the rez, especially when Aunt June and Uncle Henry took me in. Made me feel less alone with five other kids there to keep me occupied."

"Yeah, I dig. Tommy was already sixteen when Dad died, so it was kinda different for him. He started right up tryin' to be the man of the house. Brian was eleven. I remember, he kinda shut himself off from the rest of us, got real quiet and withdrawn and angry. I was only six, just a little kid, so with the other two brothers pulling away, I got closer to Chet."

Death had been a difficult concept for her at six. Charlie had never known anyone who'd died before. The only person she'd ever heard of dying was Jesus, and he came back after he died, didn't he? She really could understand why everyone was so upset and said as much to Brian. Brian yelled at her, calling her a stupid baby, and pushed her down. Chet saw it happen and yelled right back at Brian, his voice breaking, telling him to leave Charlie alone and stop being an asshole. They probably would have come to blows if their mother hadn't come in and bellowed over them to stop acting so disrespectful.

"Dammit, Brian, Chet! Just go to your rooms and quit fighting! Your father wouldn't have tolerated this behavior, and neither will I! Brian, go to your room and don't come out until I tell you to! Chet, take your sister up to her room and stay there! I'll not have you two at it again!"

Chet dutifully picked Charlie up and carried her up to her room, sitting with her on the floor.

"Why is everyone so sad, Chet?" she asked innocently.

"Because Daddy died," he replied forlornly.

"Why did Brian push me? Why'd he get so mad? I only asked him about Jesus."

"Regular people aren't like Jesus, Charlie," Chet explained, wiping his face on his sleeve, "Regular people don't come back when they die. They're just… they die, and that's it."

"But why? Why don't they come back? Don't they wanna come back?"

"They don't get to choose if they wanna come back. Their bodies don't work anymore. Daddy had an accident at work that made his body not work anymore, and that's why he died, why he can't come back."

"But Father Kincaid said when people die, they go to Heaven and meet Jesus."

"Yeah, he did."

"So is Daddy in Heaven?"

"Yeah… yeah, I guess," Chet sniffed.

Charlie still couldn't see why that was so bad, but she didn't want to make Chet mad at her, too. _If Daddy's in Heaven, then I need Chet to take care of me._ The funeral was more difficult, but Chet was right there with her, holding her hand and quietly explaining that while Daddy's body was in the box, he didn't know he was in the box because he was dead. Their cousin Sister Mary Leo sat with them during the funeral to keep an eye on Charlie, gently telling her that people were bodies that harbored souls and that Daddy's soul had gone to Heaven to be with Jesus, leaving behind the body that didn't work anymore.

"One day, you'll die and go to Heaven, too. So will I, and Fr. Kincaid, and everyone you know."

"When am I gonna die?" Charlie asked calmly.

"No one knows that, sweetie. It could be tomorrow or a hundred years from now."

"Sr. Leo's right, Charlie," Chet whispered, his voice thick, "and when we get to Heaven, Dad's soul will be there."

Young Charlotte thought about that for a long moment and confidently told her brother and Sr. Leo, "I think I'll try and wait before I go to Heaven," which made Sr. Leo smile.

Chet held his baby sister on his lap at the church and the cemetery. She remembered thinking he would never let her go.

A hand on her arm brought her back to the present, where John was eyeing her with concern. Charlie offered him a small smile, saying, "Sorry, John. I just got to thinkin'…"

"Yeah, I know the feelin'…"

A companionable silence fell over them while they finished their dinner, whereupon John remarked, "It's nice you and Chet are so close."

"Yeah, it is. God, I was a mess when he enlisted in the Army," she told John, "He joined up right after high school for five years. Ended up in the 18th Engineers as a Heavy Construction Equipment Operator. He got shipped out to Vietnam in '66. I cried all the way to the airstrip to see him off."

"I didn't know he went to Vietnam. I mean, I knew he was in the Army, but…"

"He wasn't ever really in the shit or nothin'. He was at… he was stationed at Pleiku during Tet, I think, but mostly he wasn't on the front lines. He ended up coming home in early '68… and he brought Brian with him."

"Wow, your brother Brian was in Vietnam, too? Musta been hard on you and your mom."

Charlie replied, her voice low, "Especially when Brian came home covered with a flag."

John breathed, "Oh, god," and laid a hand on Charlie's back. _There I go again, opening my stupid mouth. John should really learn to be… less trusting looking or something. It's like I get word vomit around him, just can't stop talking._ Charlie really did her best to avoid talking about Brian. Chet had been obviously heartbroken when he came home and refused to talk about it, so none of them spoke of it. They knew their father had died almost instantaneously, hadn't lingered or suffered. The same could not be said for Brian. Perhaps that was why it hurt so much to talk about… perhaps that's why they should have been talking about it all along.

"You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to," John said quietly, reassuringly, "I'm sure it's hard-"

"That's why I think I need to talk about it," she piped up, "I haven't talked about it since it happened, and… and it needs to be talked about, John. I… I trust you to know this, about me and Chet."

John fell silent, wearing an expression that Charlie was sure he used when listening to patients. Charlie took a deep breath.

"Brian enlisted right after high school in '65, just like Chet did, only Brian joined the Marines. Said they were tougher, harder. They put him in the infantry and shipped his ass straight to 'Nam with the 1st Battalion, 9th Marines," she explained, well aware of John's hand still on her back, "Kid wasn't right, I tell ya. He loved it over there, bein' in the shit and everything. He was always real optimistic in his letters, always saying he was sure we could win the thing. So, we were hopeful for him. He only signed up for three years, so we figured he'd be home.

"Both Chet and Brian were due home in the middle of '68, like May or June. In February, we got word they'd both be coming home early… because Chet was bringing home Brian's body. He was killed at Hué. Mom took it pretty hard just because Brian was always so closed off, quiet, reserved. Didn't like showing his emotions much. I mean, you can pretty much tell what me and Chet are thinking at any given moment, but Brian wasn't like that. Mom always worried about… about his last moments, worried if he suffered or was scared, y'know."

Chet had told Charlie (the night before the funeral, drunk as a skunk) the extent of Brian's injuries: severe burns, major internal injuries, several nonfatal gunshot wounds. According to another Marine from the 1/9, Brian had caught the brunt of a VC grenade and hell from a VC sniper at Hué. He'd been sent directly to the hospital at Cam Ranh, where he lingered long enough for Chet to arrive and died just after his brother's arrival. _Don't think John really needs to know all that… it was more than I ever wanted to know. Shit, it's probably why Chet could only call me 'Charlotte' for that first year after he came back._

"I'm sorry," John mumbled, "I… I had no idea."

"Yup… then it wasn't too long after that that Mom got sick. Lung cancer. She died in September of '71."

"Oh my god, how are you even still goin' on?"

"Because I have to. That's life. You live, and you die. So does everyone else," she replied matter-of-factly.

She only had the answer because she'd asked herself the same question enough times. The world wasn't going to stop turning just because one human died, no matter how important that human was to her and her family, so she had to keep moving right along with it. She told Chet as much in '68 when he became so melancholic (and borderline alcoholic) he refused to do much of anything but visit the liquor store for over a month. Charlie pushed him for nearly an hour, grilling and prodding and using every dirty trick she could think of to get him to pull himself out of his funk. He finally snapped on her, the first time he'd ever done so in her memory.

" _What_? What do you want me to do, Charlotte?" he spat.

"Anything but sittin' around and mopin' and drinkin' your life away! Brian's dead! That's it! He's been dead for a month, and he'll be dead forever!" she retorted sharply, "Sittin' around like this ain't gonna change that!"

"So what, you just want me to forget this ever happened? Forget him?"

"No, I want you to go out and live and remember him," she told him, her voice softening, "The world didn't end when he died, just like it didn't end when Dad died or when anyone else's brother bought it in Vietnam. The world keeps turnin' and so should we. Christ, Chet, if you feel guilty, then go do something worthwhile. Help other people or something. Just don't sit here and do this to yourself."

"Help people how? All I know how to do is operate heavy equipment."

"Well, you'll think of something. Maybe you could drive a firetruck."

By the end of the year, Chester Kelly was starting his probie year in the LA County Fire Department.

xXxXx

John was surprised to see a smile on Charlie's face as she worked through whatever memories he'd so stupidly brought up.

"Chet really loves being fireman," she said at last, "I mean it. He's always telling me about all the good things you guys have done, all the people you help. I know he wouldn't wanna be doing anything else."

"I don't think any of us would."

"I can imagine. Crazy bastards… running into burning buildings and shit…"

John chuckled at that. _Yeah, I reckon it is pretty crazy, but without crazy bastards like us, plenty of other people would die._ He cast another glance at Charlie, realizing his hand was still on her back, though he couldn't be exactly sure why.

"Thank you," he murmured.

"For what?"

"For trusting me enough to tell me all that."

She just smiled, pausing a moment before asking him, "How old are you?"

"I was twenty-six in August."

"That's how old Brian would be this year, too. Twenty-six."

"Maybe that's why Chet's always prankin' me so much, 'cause he sees me as a little brother."

"Could be," she laughed, "Honestly, though, if he thinks that, there's no higher compliment you could get."

John felt his smile grow. In the fire department, he and the men he worked with had to work well together. Each guy had to look out for the other, had to have his six, had to almost know what the other was thinking. John had certainly come to see the other men at Station 51 as family and to essentially have the assurance that Chet thought of him as family, too… that just topped everything.

John Gage would never admit it to anyone (and would fervently deny it if someone else said so), but he really looked up to the guys at 51. He was the youngest by two years, and even though some of the guys hadn't necessarily been in the field much longer than him, they certainly had more life experience. Roy and Chet had both been in the Army. Marco and Stoker had served at a number of stations across the county, and CPT Stanley… well, he just knew more than any of them. In spite of the pranks and arguments that went on between all of them, John generally found it easy to ask them for advice on nearly everything. Sure, sometimes they would poke fun at him, but for the most part they were more than happy to help.

Charlie was smiling at him like she knew what he was thinking.

"Come on, Johnny. Let's just chill out and see what's on the tube, huh?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've done my best to look up both explaining death to children and the Vietnam info I have here for where Chet and Brian were at that time. Please let me know if anything is wrong.


	5. There's Always Tomorrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "John did his best to ignore the heated phone call going on in his kitchen, awkwardly thumbing through an auto magazine and pretending he couldn't hear the venom in Charlie's voice. It was extremely difficult, especially when she spat out, 'Oh yeah, like you kept Brian safe,' in a tone so poisonous John was amazed it didn't kill the whole building."

"Charlie? That you?" Chet asked, calling from the station on Tuesday morning.

 _"I sure hope so,"_ she replied sarcastically, _"Who else would it be?"_

"Yeah, okay, smartass. How are you? I mean, how's everything?"

 _"Pretty good, I guess,"_ Charlie answered, _"Me and John went to the courthouse and got that protective order, like we said yesterday. Mike served it to him in the jail. Said he didn't take it too well."_

"Did he say anything crazy? Like, did he threaten you or anything?"

_"Of course he did, he's nuts! Mike said the cops threw him down when he made a grab through the bars, though, which I kind of appreciate."_

"But he knows you have the protective order?"

She sighed, _"Yes, Chet. He's not allowed to come within 50 ft of my place of residence or my workplace, wherever that may be next. John's landlady knows not to let him in, too…"_

"Is he still in jail?"

_"Yup. Should be in until… tonight at the earliest. Someone's gotta bail him out."_

"Good… good… look, I've got this one last shift before my four days, and then I'll come get you, alright?"

_"Yeah…"_

He could hear apprehension in her voice.

"What is it, Charlie? What's wrong?"

_"Nothing…"_

"Aw, come on, I know you better than that. Tell me."

 _"Maybe I should find somewhere else to go for a bit,"_ she said slowly, quietly, _"I don't want anyone to get hurt, least of all you."_

"He won't. He won't hurt anyone els-"

_"You can't know that, Chet. No one can. Sure, maybe the protection order will work. Maybe sitting in jail overnight will change his tune, but we can't be sure of that. He may have chilled out overnight, or he may just come after me harder."_

"But where else would you go?"

_"I… I don't know. Maybe to Denise's-"_

"No," Chet told her firmly, "No, I'm not gonna have you go somewhere and have him find you and-and do something to you. I don't wanna find out you were beaten or-or killed or worse."

_"What, you would rather watch him do it?"_

"Dammit, this isn't a joke, Charlotte!" Chet snapped, "Why aren't you taking this seriously?"

_"I am taking it seriously! What makes you think I'm not taking this seriously? I'm just trying to come up with a solution, which is more than you've done! Hell, your plan already failed!"_

"Don't blame me for that," Chet bit out, "Don't you dare blame me for that. I'm just trying to keep you safe."

_"Oh yeah, like you kept Brian safe," Charlie spat._

There was a long pause. Chet felt his heart stop, his stomach drop, his breath catch. He heard his sister suck in a gasp over the rushing of blood in his ears and say, _"Shit… shit, Chet, I didn't mean that. You know I didn't mean that. That-that wasn't your fault. Please-"_

"Call me tomorrow, Charlie," Chet said coldly.

_"Chet, please! I didn't-"_

"Tomorrow."

He's surprised he didn't break the receiver with how hard he slammed the phone down. Anger flared up in his chest, like flames licking at the insides of his ribs. He stormed into the dorm, trying to calm himself with deep breaths, but it wasn't working. _How dare she? How dare she bring Brian's death into this? How dare she try and make this my fault?_ He wanted to cry. He wanted to scream. He drew back his arm and leveled his fist at the door, nearly punching a hole through it, hearing a sickening crack and feeling a burning pain spread out from his knuckles. He swore quietly, praying no one had heard him. There was a knock on the door. _No such luck._ Roy's voice came from the other side of the door, "Chet? Chet, are you alright? Chet?"

The last word sounded almost frantic, so Chet pulled the door open with his other hand. Roy quickly pushed his way, his expression worried. Chet cast his eyes down at the floor.

"Are you alright?" Roy asked again, softer this time, "We… uh, I heard a shout and a bang. I just wanted to make sure you were okay, that-that you weren't hurt."

"I'm fine," Chet lied automatically.

He felt like he'd been doing that forever, telling others he was fine when all he wanted to do was break and show them he was anything but. He wanted to cry. He wanted to scream. He cradled his injured hand to his chest and heard Roy step closer. His hand came into view, resting at Chet's elbow as he asked, "May I?"

Chet allowed the paramedic to manipulate his arm and hand.

"Doesn't seem broken," Roy told him quietly, "Think you bruised it up pretty good, probably popped your knuckles, maybe a small sprain. I'll wrap it all up for you, but you'll probably be sore for about a week. Just sit on your bunk while I get what I need. I'll be right back."

Chet simply nodded, not trusting his voice and fighting back tears. He wanted so badly to cry, but he couldn't. He couldn't let anyone see him cry, not even the men he called brothers, especially not them. He put his face in his good hand, cradling the injured one, doing his best to calm himself before Roy came back. _Why us?_

"Here we go," Roy said, making Chet jump at his sudden reappearance.

He refused to look at Roy. He couldn't, not when he'd been so careless. He'd failed to save his brother, his mother, and now it seemed he would also fail to save his little sister… maybe John, too.

"Chet… you're not fine," Roy stated quietly, "You're shaking all over. What the hell happened?"

He shook his head. Roy sighed above him. _Dammit, Roy, just patch up my hand leave so I can cry in peace! Or get myself under control, one or the other._ That was, of course, when the tones went off, calling them to a fire. Chet jumped to his feet, pushing everything down, all the anger, the guilt, the grief. He'd deal with it later. He'd have to.

The two men hustled to the bay, quickly pulling on their turnouts and climbing into their respective vehicles. Chet managed to ignore the pitying looks from the others, focusing on the throbbing, burning pain in his hand. Marco elbowed him for his attention and gestured toward his injured hand, his expression concerned under his helmet. Chet just shrugged. He wouldn't concern anyone else with his wild emotions. The looks and tense atmosphere stopped as soon as the engine pulled up in front of the burning house and Cap started giving orders.

Chet grabbed the hose, strangely calmed by its familiar weight in his hands, by Marco's presence at his back, by Cap's voice telling him what to do. It was good. It distracted him. He no longer felt the huge weight of wanting to scream and cry… not while he fought the flames. His hand didn't even hurt.

xXxXx

John did his best to ignore the heated phone call going on in his kitchen, awkwardly thumbing through an auto magazine and pretending he couldn't hear the venom in Charlie's voice. It was extremely difficult, especially when she spat out, "Oh yeah, like you kept Brian safe," in a tone so poisonous John was amazed it didn't kill the whole building. He could feel the tension pouring from the kitchen. He knew Charlie immediately regretted her words by her gasp and the way she said, "Shit… shit, Chet, I didn't mean that. You know I didn't mean that. That-that wasn't your fault. Please-… Chet, please! I didn't-!"

She stared at the phone in her hand before hanging it up, her movements sluggish. She looked like her heart had just been broken. It took her a long while to come back into the living room.

"He hates me," she stated numbly.

"No he doesn't," John told her quietly, "No, he's just… he's just mad, is all. He'll come around. You know that."

"He does, John! He hates me! I know it!" she half-shouted, her voice frantic, "John, what if I die and he thinks I hated him? Or if I knew he hated me and knows it? It would kill him, John! I-"

"Hey, calm down, calm down, Charlie. You're gonna be alright," John soothed, reaching out to rest his hand on her shoulder, "That's not gonna happen. I promise. I'll call later when and try to clear it all up if that'll make you feel better, okay? Gettin' yourself all worked up ain't gonna do nothin' but make you sick. Just calm down now… it's gonna be alright."

He watched her rein her emotions in, not letting herself cry, not wanting John to think she was weak. Having older brothers, she probably heard them get told not to cry or to man up and taught herself to hide her tears and emotions as well as they did. That's what happened with John's youngest cousin, Jessamine. The older girl, Julia, was very girly and feminine, but as the second child, Aunt June had had plenty of time to dote on her femininity. Jessie was the baby after three boys, so she received all their hand-me-downs and spent her time playing with them and their friends. _Hell, I remember when she was eight she came home with her forearm snapped in two and told Aunt June and Uncle Henry she 'probably had to go to the hospital,' just like that. Cool as a cucumber._ Charlie had probably done the same thing.

"There you go. Better?"

She nodded.

"Good. Know what else'll make you feel better?"

"No. What?"

"Ice cream. That's the best cure there is for feelin' bad. Whaddaya say, Charlie?"

"I guess I can't say no if you're gonna buy."

"Damn right… now help me up so we can go."

Charlie gave a small laugh as she pulled John to his feet and helped him into the Land Rover. John did his best to keep Charlie's spirits up until he could straighten everything up with Chet. His favorite tactic was to serenade her with whatever tune came on the radio. Keeping her mind off her problems would be best, so he moved on to telling her stories of growing up with his six crazy cousins: Jim, Julia, Joe, Josh, Jake, and Jessie. He wove her some spectacular tales of all the hell they raised around the ranch and the rez and later their corner of California.

"You sure fit right in with all those 'J' names," Charlie remarked, sipping on her milkshake.

"Yeah, they thought it would be cute, but really all it did was confuse us when they were mad at us. One time, Uncle Henry went through every single name, the boys, the girls, even one of the horses! Couldn't get my damn name. Finally gave up and just snatched me up. I don't even remember what I did now, but I'm sure I deserved it. Generally did," he shrugged.

"Sounds like you had a pretty great childhood, John."

"I did. I loved it. Sure, I mean, my parents died when I was seven, but Aunt June and Uncle Henry treated me just like one of their own, so it wasn't so bad," he replied so simply, "Guess I didn't know any different."

"Guess that's what happens. I was about the same age when my dad died."

"Yeah, I remember you sayin' that the other day."

Charlie shot him a smile that made his heart give a little flutter. _Stop that. She's off limits. Chet would kill me, slowly and painfully… and Charlie might do it, too. Remember that, Johnny Gage._ He looked back to her, finding her expression pensive.

"What is it, Charlie?"

"They're gonna let Wheeler out tomorrow," she said, "I just… I don't know what's gonna happen."

"No one knows what's gonna happen tomorrow. No one can. We just gotta meet whatever comes our way and take it on. Personally, I think he'll have his hands full if he comes around."

Charlie still looked a bit anxious, but his words seemed to calm her slightly.

"You're a pretty great guy, you know that, John?" she said abruptly.

"It's been said."

"I really mean it. You're a stand-up guy. Nice, kind, friendly, all that."

"Well, I just need some other chicks to think that and maybe I won't be single," he blurted, then blushed.

She smiled at him again. _Dammit, John, every time. Learn to control your mouth._ He finished his ice cream in embarrassed silence. He wasn't nearly as bad as Chet with his mouth getting him into trouble, but he wasn't far off. Both of them could certainly talk themselves into a hole, though John was usually capable of talking himself out, while Chet typically dug himself deeper. In this case, John decided it was better for him to keep his mouth shut to save his own dignity. Anyway, he didn't want his ice cream to melt.

xXxXx

"I'll get it," Roy called as the phone rang in the station, "Station 51, this is Roy DeSoto."

 _"Well, hey there, partner,"_ a familiar voice answered.

"Hey, yourself, Junior. How are ya?"

_"Oh, I'm alright. You know this ain't the worst I been hurt, but it's nice to have some company. How's business been?"_

"Nothin' special, so don't worry. You didn't miss anything."

John chuckled on the other end of the line, so Roy joked, "I sure hope you're keepin' your hands to yourself there, Junior. I think Charlie could probably send you back to Rampart."

 _"Actually, she thinks I'm a great guy. She told me so,"_ John replied proudly.

"Clearly she doesn't know you, then."

_"Ha ha, you're hilarious, Roy."_

"You know I try my best."

_"Alright, look, is Chet there? I need to talk to him."_

"Oh god, you didn't-"

_"No, I didn't! I mean, it is about Charlie, but not like that! See, her and Chet had a fight, and Charlie said some stuff she prob'ly shouldn't've."_

"That explains that," Roy muttered.

_"That explains what?"_

"When they got off the phone earlier, we heard Chet storm off to the bunks. Not too long after that, we all heard a yell and a loud bang. Practically punched a hole a through the door."

_"Is he alright?"_

"Yeah, he's fine. His hand is pretty bruised up and he'll be sore for a bit, but he didn't break anything. I taped him up, tried to get him to talk, but he clammed up. Wouldn't say anything, but as soon as we got a call, he was fine. Performed on scene just as well as he normally does."

_"Well, Charlie's convinced Chet hates her because-… nevermind. I shouldn't."_

"What is it, Johnny?" Roy asked, "If this could affect Chet's work, you need to tell me. You know that."

He could practically hear John chewing his lip, and he worried his fellow paramedic would clam up, too.

_"Look… Charlie told me this not too long ago. Did you know Chet was in Vietnam?"_

"I mean, I sort of had an idea, but I wasn't sure. I knew he was in the Army, at least."

 _"Well, Chet was in 'Nam, and so was his younger brother, Brian,"_ John explained, his tone lowering slightly, _"They were over there at about the same time, 'cept Brian was in the Marines in the infantry. Charlie told me Brian bought it at Hué… well, that he was wounded at Hué and died at Cam Ranh."_

Roy swore softly. Chet never told any of them that. _Hell, Chet never even told us he was in Vietnam._ John continued, _"Her and Chet got pretty heated, I guess, and when Chet said somethin' about her bein' safe with him, she spat out somethin' about Brian. She feels real bad about it, so I wanted to try and sort it out."_

"Johnny, I know you're a good guy and you only wanna help, but I think you should stay out of this," Roy told him, "Chet was fine at that call, but I haven't seen him since we got back. He's probably still mad. He just needs some time to chill out and then I think he'll call himself to make up."

_"But, Roy-"_

"Look, Junior, I'm gonna give you some simple advice. Don't get involved in family arguments, and keep your hands off Chet's sister," Roy explained, "Chet's gonna come pick her up tomorrow morning when we get off, and by our next shift, you'll be back at work, chasin' nurses. Just… just be cool, alright? This'll all blow over soon."

Something in Roy's gut churned as he spoke those last words, and he did not like the feeling one bit.

_"Yeah… yeah, you're right."_

"You be careful, John."

_"I will."_

"Good, now-"

The tones blared for a squad call. Roy hurriedly bid John goodbye and went to the squad. Heart trouble was always a tricky call. He looked over to the passenger seat, half-expecting to see John, disappointed when he only saw Brice. _I'd rather have John._

Thankfully, the call was simple, and they were replenished and on their way back to 51 in no time.

"What's Kelly's problem?" Brice asked, setting Roy's teeth on edge.

"It's his business."

His tone must have had just the right amount of warning in it because the other paramedic was silent until they pulled into the bay. Marco and Stoker were talking quietly, stopping while Roy and Brice put their gear away. Marco gave Roy a pointed look, his eyes flicking toward Brice. Roy knew how to take a hint, so he told Brice to head in without him. Thankfully, Brice could take a hint, too.

"What's goin' on with Chet?" Marco whispered, "He's been weird today."

"There's just some stuff goin' on with his sister, you know that," Roy replied, "Stoker here had to drag his ass back into the station the other night because that guy harassing his sister was hangin' around the bushes."

"Not to mention that I served him that protection order for her," Stoker spoke up, "but something else happened. We saw what he did to the door."

"Yeah, and we all heard that yell before he hit the door, Roy, and I saw his hand all wrapped up on our way to that house fire."

The other two men looked at Roy expectantly. The paramedic sighed, saying, "Look, there's a lot going on that I can't tell you. They're just both pretty uptight and need time to cool off. Where is Chet anyway?"

"Already turned in," Stoker replied.

Marco told him, "He said he didn't feel well. Took some aspirin for his hand and turned in right after you left. I sorta figured it had something to do with his sister. I've just never seen him like this before."

"I think he'll be fine once everything blows over. He just needs time to cool off," Roy repeated, the strange feeling rolling in his gut once more, "This'll all be over soon."

Marco and Stoker both sighed and made faces that told Roy they didn't quite believe that. _I sure hope they're wrong… but I get the sinking feeling things'll get worse before they get better._ He hoped he was wrong, too.


	6. I Just Might Have A Problem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "…we're gonna be alright. I know it."
> 
> Chet's stomach gave an odd little flip, like it disagreed with what he said. He tried to ignore it as he pulled his baja sweatshirt over his t-shirt. _I just know everything will be alright. It has to be. I made Charlie a promise, and I've never broken a promise to her._ His stomach disagreed again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains violence, some of it done in self defense and defense of others. There is also some salty language in here, including words considered slut-shaming. This chapter may be triggering to some due to this type of violence and language. 
> 
> This chapter also contains some pleasant kissing.
> 
> ***There is NO rape or sexual assault.***

John woke slowly, blinking in the weak sunlight peeking through the blinds. He moved to throw his arm over his face and swore quietly at the pain in his injured shoulder. Grumbling, he went to use his other arm and was surprised to find it pinned down. He was a bit more awake now, so he twisted to locate the reason for its immobility. His heart seemed to skip a beat before pounding harder than ever. _Not good not good not good_ , his mind screamed. In a panic, he forced himself to remember the night before.

He and Charlie had dinner in last night, with Charlie making the only meal she could apparently make: spaghetti. (It was pretty good even if the sauce came from a jar.) They perched on the pullout once more, having never folded it back into the couch, and watched some TV, catching an old monster movie or two like old friends before falling asleep. He sighed with relief. _Boy, am I sure glad_ that _didn't happen last night. Won't die before my time just yet anyway…_

Charlie was snuggled up against John's side, clutching his arm like a teddy bear. When he tried to pull away, she held on tighter, pressing closer without waking. John, however, was very much awake after his near heart attack, so he chose to observe his slumbering companion while he was trapped. She looked peaceful for the first time this week, younger than her twenty-one years. A jumble of dark curls was settled around her face. Long, dark lashes rested atop her freckle-dusted cheeks, and her pink lips were parted just ever so slightly. A soft smile crept onto John's face.

After a while, Charlie shifted and snuffled, those long lashes fluttering as she woke slowly.

"Well, good morning, Sleeping Beauty," John drawled, receiving a grumble in response, "Now, you think I could get my good arm back? I been waitin' to pee for 'bout a half-hour."

"Fine, take it back," she groused, "but only just so you don't pee here."

Charlie rolled away from the window, curling up to go back to sleep. John limped to the bathroom, then went into his bedroom to change his clothes. His clock read 6:51 am. Charlie was sitting up when John emerged from the bedroom, her dark curls heavily tousled, her blue eyes half-lidded and still full of sleep. She swore quietly when she accidentally rubbed her black eye.

"Why don't you go get yourself all pulled together while I make some coffee, huh?" he suggested.

She mumbled a response John couldn't quite hear but rose from the pullout anyway, disappearing into the bathroom. He felt his gaze drawn to her once more. Heat crept up into his face, and he turned back to the coffee pot. _Now now, Johnny. Keep your eyes off her… don't even think about hands. Not only would Chet kill me, but she probably would, too. I'd only get myself into trouble… all kinds of trouble…_

"Oh, Johnny, that smells _divine_ ," Charlie sighed, coming out of the bathroom in fresh clothes.

"Why, thank you kindly, Charlie. Good coffee's about all I can make, remember?"

"I sure do. And if you remember, all I can cook for breakfast is scrambled eggs. I suppose you'd like some as payment for this fine brew?"

"Don't suppose it'd go amiss," he teased.

She laughed, going right to the fridge and retrieving the eggs. Ten minutes later, they were once again perched on the pullout, watching the morning news. The first cups of coffee went fast, so John went for the refills, fixing Charlie's with cream and coffee the way he'd seen her do it all week.

"Oh, thanks, John. It's perfect," she told him, "How'd you know?"

"I always try to be observant, just like a good little paramedic," he smirked.

They were finished eating by half past seven, and after Charlie put the dishes in the sink and brought more coffee, the two of them simply lounged on the pullout, not quite paying attention to the TV. A strange feeling had settled in the pit of John's stomach, one he couldn't quite identify. He just felt… uneasy. _Wheeler probably got out of jail last night, maybe the night before, and we haven't seen or heard from him. I mean, it's a good thing, really, but all it's doing is making me anxious._ He shifted against the uncomfortable feeling in his gut and sipped on his coffee. A-Shift's four days were due to start, so Chet would probably come to pick Charlie up in about an hour or so. John focused on the warm presence beside him. He would miss that.

Charlie shifted, probably setting down her coffee, and John followed suit by setting his on the windowsill. Her voice was soft as she murmured, "John… Johnny…" so low John could barely hear her. He felt her shift some more and turned to face her. He was not prepared for the way she pressed her lips to his, not by a long shot; he froze. Her hands rested awkwardly on his shoulders, as if she wasn't sure where to put them or what to do with them. John felt his eyes slip shut and his body unfreeze.

Slowly, he moved his lips gently against hers, so soft and warm, a sigh escaping through his nose. Charlie was fairly clumsy at kissing, like she hadn't done it much before… and John found he was more than willing to teach. He tilted his head just so to avoid bumping noses and pressed his lips to hers a bit harder, bringing his good hand up to cradle the back of her head, his fingers twining in her dark hair. His tongue darted out to touch her lips, and he was almost dizzy at how quickly they parted for him. He tasted sweetened coffee. His stomach twisted pleasantly. Charlie made a soft noise in her throat and shifted closer as John's thumb slipped down to her neck, feeling her pulse beating wildly. Her teeth caught his bottom lip, and it was John's turn to make a small sound. He pulled his tongue along the roof of her mouth, nipping her bottom lip and sucking on it gently; she made that noise again.

John's mind roared back into gear, screaming at him to stop, and he remembered who this girl was and why she was there and what he was supposed to be doing. He planted a gentle kiss to her lips before pulling away completely, holding her back when she tried to lean in again. A thousand thoughts raced through his mind, but he was only able to voice one: "Why did you do that, Charlie?"

"Because I wanted to," she murmured.

"That answer's not good enough. Try again," he said quietly, his hand still cradling the back of her head.

"I… I've got a bad vibe about today, Johnny," she confessed in a whisper, "I just know Wheeler's gonna come around and-… well, I figured if I'm gonna die today, I'm gonna be kissed by someone who knows how… seein' as how I've never been really kissed before. Aw, come on, Johnny…"

She leaned in again, but John continued to hold her back, shaking his head.

"You're not gonna die today, Charlie. I promise," he told her, "I'm here to make sure you're safe, and I swear on my life, I won't let him hurt you as long as I've got fight left in me."

"But, John-"

"Look, we're gonna be alright, I promise you that… but this… I'm here to help keep you safe, not take advantage of you."

"You're not taking advantage of me."

"I am," he replied, "You just basically told me that you're scared and worried. We can't know if you'd still wanna kiss me if we weren't in this situation, and-and that means I'm taking advantage of you. Now, if you still wanna do some kissin' when all this is over, then… well, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. Just not like this, Charlie."

She ducked her head, nodding shakily, pulling in a trembling breath. He pulled her into a hug, settling her head under his chin, and she instantly curled up against him. He couldn't think of anything to say that hadn't already been said, but he repeated, "We're gonna be alright," trying to ignore the uneasy rolling of his stomach.

xXxXx

Chet was getting ready to change into his civvies after the end of their shift when Cap asked, "Kelly, could I speak to you in my office for a minute?"

"Yeah… yeah, sure thing, Cap."

He followed his captain into the small office where he was asked to close the door and sit. _Not sure that's good. Cap never closes the office door._ Chet's stomach gave a little flip.

"Chet," the older man said slowly, "I know you've been having a rough time of it this past week, with that Wheeler fella threatening your sister, and I know it's hard to not be there to protect her, but… look, I've been thinking it over, and I really think you should talk to someone about what's going on."

"Come on, I don't really think I need a shrink-"

"I'm not saying you need a shrink," Cap told him, "but I do think you oughta talk to one of us about what's been happening. I really think it'll help. We're your friends. Do you think we're gonna make fun of you for asking for help?"

Chet ducked his head, blood rushing to his face. He heard Cap sigh.

"Look, we're just worried about you and your sister. You've been working fine, but when you're not on a call, you're not yourself. I think we're actually starting to miss your usual yammering."

Chet snorted but didn't look up.

"Chet, I'd like for you to look at me when I'm talking to you."

His voice was calm, gentle, fatherly, and he waited patiently for Chet to pick up his head. Cap was leaning over his desk on his folded hands, his expression reflecting his tone.

"You can always talk to any one of us if you have a problem," Cap said earnestly, "Like I said before, we're your friends. We're here to help you if you ever need it. See, some of us have been around the block a few times and have a fair amount of experience. We may have some good advice for you."

"Yeah… yeah, I reckon you're right," Chet mumbled, "But-but I just don't want you guys to think I'm being… overemotional or something."

"We won't think that if you're honestly asking for help. Everybody needs to ask for help sometimes," Cap explained, "If you don't wanna talk to one of the guys, I at least want you to know you can always talk to me. I'd certainly rather talk to you than do paperwork."

Chet snorted again. Cap continued, "Please, Chet, I'd like for you to talk to me about what's going on. I can see it's upsetting you, and I want to help you. I really do."

Chet desperately wanted to lie like he always did. He wanted to say he was fine, that he wasn't bothered by what was going on, that he could handle everything on his own, but when he opened his mouth, the truth spilled out. He told Cap everything, from his father's death in '58 to Brian dying in Vietnam to his mother getting sick and dying not even two years ago, "so Tommy and Charlie are the only family I have left, especially Charlie. I mean, she's my baby sister."

"Would you like to tell me about what happened the other night when you decided to assault the door to the dorm?"

"Charlie and me kinda had a fight about everything that was goin' on," Chet explained quietly, "She… uh, she brought up Brian, like she was saying his death was my fault, and I just… it got me steamed pretty good, Cap. We, uh, we never really talked about Brian, y'know, not since a month after he died… well, a month after I brought him home."

Cap's eyebrows raised slightly, but he said nothing. Chet continued, "As soon as I leave here, I'm goin' straight to John's to pick her up and apologize."

"I think that's a pretty good idea, Chet. Thank you for telling me all that. I really appreciate it."

"Thanks for listening, Cap," Chet smiled.

"Alright, well you go ahead and get outta here. I've got some paperwork to finish up before I can leave."

Chet thanked him again, heading back to the lockers to change. Roy was at his own locker, buttoning up a cotton shirt, and greeted him warmly, "Hey, Chet, everything alright?"

"It will be, I think," he replied honestly, getting out of his uniform, "Gonna head right over to Johnny's and pick Charlie up to take her to live with me… gonna apologize, too."

"Apologize for what?"

"We kinda had a fight the other day."

"Is that when you, uh, did that?"

Roy motioned to Chet's impressively bruised hand.

"Yeah… but we're gonna be alright. I know it."

Chet's stomach gave an odd little flip, like it disagreed with what he said. He tried to ignore it as he pulled his baja sweatshirt over his t-shirt. _I just know everything will be alright. It has to be. I made Charlie a promise, and I've never broken a promise to her._ His stomach disagreed again.

xXxXx

There was a loud pounding on the door that made Charlie jump, and she felt John tighten his good arm around her. They both eyed the door cautiously.

"Oh, Charlotte! Come out, come out!"

She gasped, "No!" covering her mouth. John swore. _This can't be! This can't be real! This has to be a dream, a nightmare!_ John struggled to his feet and then pulled her to hers. Wheeler kept pounding on the door. John shoved a bowie knife into Charlie's hands, hissing, "Go and hide under the bed!"

"No! John-!"

"Goddammit, go! I'm tryin' to keep you safe, so just do what I tell ya! _Go_!" he ordered.

He gave her a small shove for emphasis, and she finally obeyed, rushing to the bedroom, shutting the door, and crawling under the bed. The pounding on the front door continued, muffled by the bedroom door, until the former crashed open; Charlie jumped.

"Where is she?"

"You sonuva-!"

"Where the fuck is she, huh?"

"I don't know who you're talkin'-"

"Yes you do, you fuckin' liar!"

"Listen here, you sonuva bitch, you get the fu-"

"WHERE IS SHE?"

The scream was punctuated with someone hitting the other. A scuffle erupted. Charlie heard muffled shouts and swears and the sound of skin hitting skin. She stayed under the bed, frozen, clutching the bowie knife. _I've gotta go help him. John needs my help._ She couldn't move. The men in the living room started arguing again, with Wheeler screaming over John, "I know she's fuckin' here! I know that little bitch is here!"

"I tell ya, I don't know-ah!"

John was clearly struck hard, hard enough to send him crashing to the ground. She squeezed her eyes shut, desperately trying to block out the sounds of the fight in the living room. John gave a strangled yell and fell silent. Footsteps approached the bedroom door, and it crashed open. Charlie forced herself not to scream, clamping a hand over her mouth, and tried to breathe quietly.

She watched a pair of sneakers enter the room. The closet was ripped open, items pulled out and tossed on the floor. The window was wrenched open. The sneakers moved slowly around the room until they came to the foot of the bed. Charlie screamed.

Wheeler's hand shot out and grabbed her by the hair, pulling her out from under the bed. She slashed at him with the knife, but he didn't let go, ignoring the cuts on his forearms. He twisted her arm violently, making her cry out and drop the knife, forcing her to face him. His eyes were wide and crazy, his long hair wild and unkempt. It felt like he was trying to rip her hair out at the roots.

"You know, _Charlotte_ ," he bit out, "it wasn't very nice of you to get that restraining order against me. When you do that, a fella gets the idea you don't like him anymore, _Charlotte_. You don't like me anymore, _Charlotte_?"

"Alex, it's not that, I-"

" _Shut up_!"

He struck her hard across the face. She cried out again, starting to cry even though she didn't want to. Wheeler dragged her out into the living room by her hair. Johnny was lying face down on the floor, the sling for his dislocated shoulder across the room. The front door swung precariously on its remaining hinges. _Why can I not stop cryi-_ Wheeler whipped her around to face him again, screaming, "You little whore! You'll fuck this guy, but you won't give me the time of day? You won't even kiss me, but you'll spread your legs for this piece of shit, huh? You're a fucking slut now, _Charlotte_ , is that it?"

"No! No, I swear! Nothing happ-"

He smacked her again, bellowing, "Shut up, you stupid slut! SHUT UP!"

Charlie choked back her sobs, her breathing harsh and frightened. _This must all be a night be a nightmare. This can only be a nightmare. I'll just wake up soon. I have to wake up soon._ Blood dripped off his arms onto the carpet, soaking the sleeves of his jacket. Charlie worked hard trying not to hyperventilate. Wheeler grabbed her already bruised jaw with his bloody hand.

"You're coming with me, _Charlotte_ ," he hissed, "You're my girl, _Charlotte_ , and you're gonna show me just what a good girl you can be, understand?"

She struggled against his grip; he only squeezed tighter. She whimpered, tears still streaming from her eyes. Wheeler grinned maniacally and threw her to the ground laughing. John launched himself at Wheeler, tackling him at the knees and bringing him down with a loud crack. Fists flew, exchanging blows. John was doing alright to start, but his movements quickly became labored. He was tiring fast, and Wheeler sensed it. Charlie sat frozen with fear as Wheeler turned the tables, pinning John and landing some vicious blows before putting his hands around John's throat. _Nononononono not John please no do something I have to do something what what what-_

Charlie searched the room wildly for something, anything she could use as a weapon. Her baseball bat was hidden in the corner by the TV. She scrambled to her feet and grabbed the bat, her heart pounding, her pulse racing. Small, choked noised escaped John's throat, but he was fading fast. His lips were beginning to pale and turn blue. She had one shot.

The baseball bat connected with Wheeler's skull with a sickening crack, sending him toppling sideways. John gasped and wheezed, coughing harshly. Wheeler staggered to his feet, lunging for Charlie. She hit him again, sending him to the floor. He tried to push himself up. She hit him again, aware that she had stopped crying. His body jerked violently where he lay. She hit him again. Wheeler did not move after that. Charlie sucked in harsh breaths, her adrenaline still riding high, never taking her eyes off Wheeler's body.

Someone wrapped her up in a bear hug. Charlie struggled against the arms, convinced it was Wheeler even though she could see his unmoving form on the floor. Her breathing sped up again as she fought, sharp little gasps that weren't enough. A voice whispered in her ear, one that was soft and friendly and loving, telling her, "Come on, Charlie, we're alright now. We're alright. It's done. It's all over now. You're safe. I've got you. You're safe. Breathe, Charlie… come on now, breathe for me. You can breathe now, nice and slow. Just… just breathe."

She gradually became aware of everything happening around her as if in a dream. Roy was kneeling beside his partner, who offered him a weak smile. _When did Roy get here? Surely he hasn't been here the whole time, or he would've helped Johnny. And… police?_ She slowed her struggle against the arms encircling her.

"Breathe for me, sis…"

The grip on her loosened, and she turned to face the one holding her. Her knees buckled, and she would have gone crashing to the floor if her brother hadn't eased her down. Chet brought his hand up slowly, brushing damp hair out of her face, smoothing it back from her forehead. Tears were starting to fill his light blue eyes, his lip trembling beneath his moustache.

"We're okay now," he whispered thickly, his voice breaking, "You're-you're okay now. You're safe… safe-"

Chet choked on sob and pulled her into an embrace, burying his face in her shoulder and hair. She mirrored him, pressing close, and finally, she sobbed.

xXxXx

Chet and Roy left the station together, bidding Marco and Mike goodbye. Roy had insisted on going to John's, too, having not seen his partner since he was injured about five days ago. _They're best friends, after all. Maybe seeing Roy will cheer John up. He's probably been goin' nuts at home, even with Charlie to keep him company._ They drove over separately, pulling in one behind the other at John's apartment building. They could hear muffled, faint shouting from inside.

"Sounds pretty heavy," Chet commented.

Roy made a noise of agreement as they climbed the steps to the fourth floor. The shouting stopped, replaced by sounds of a struggle. Chet's stomach gave a weird flop, and he felt Roy tense beside him. They could both feel that there was something wrong, something very wrong. They hurried up the last steps, Chet's heart beginning to pound like he was going on call. He almost knocked Roy down when the paramedic stopped abruptly in front of him. The sounds of the struggle had ceased. Roy breathed, "Jesus," and when Chet followed his line of sight, he sucked in a sharp breath of his own.

The door to John's apartment had been forced and was hanging precariously by the lower hinge, swinging faintly. Inside, they could hear someone wheezing and coughing like they'd just been pulled from a fire while another breathing pattern sounded closer to hyperventilation. The sights they found inside were no better. Blood spotted the carpet, more heavily in some places than others. John lay face-up on the floor, the source of the hacking coughs. One of his eyes was already swollen shut, his lip was split, and there were red marks around his neck that looked suspiciously like handprints. Wheeler was in a crumpled heap not far away, still and unmoving, blood pooling around his head.

Charlie stood over him, pulling in shallow breaths, tears rolling slowly down her cheeks, her body shaking. The bat hung loosely from her hand, spattered with blood and flecks of something Chet really didn't want to think about. Sirens sounded outside, indicating someone had actually already called the police. Roy muttered, "I'll deal with the cops and take care of Johnny. You take care of Charlie."

Chet approached his sister and carefully wrapped her in a bear hug from behind. She immediately began struggling against him, so he tightened his grip slightly. Her breathing turned to sharp gasps that would probably have her passing out soon if Chet didn't act fast. He leaned in close, whispering in her ear, "Come on, Charlie, we're alright now. We're alright. It's done. It's all over now. You're safe. I've got you. You're safe. Breathe, Charlie… come on now, breathe for me. You can breathe now, nice and slow. Just… just breathe."

Chet watched Roy kneel beside Johnny, starting to take vitals and ask about what had happened as the police came in; his voice was low and worried. Johnny, who was still wheezing, only offered his partner a weak smile to try and reassure his partner though he apparently couldn't speak. _That's Johnny, never wanting Roy to worry about him when it's actually warranted._ One of Roy's hands gently felt for broken bones. The other was occupied with John squeezing it tightly. Charlie's struggling slowed until it came to a stop. He whispered, "Breathe for me, sis," and loosened his grip on her.

A moment passed before Charlie turned to face him, his arms still loosely wrapped around her. Her knees buckled, and Chet just managed to keep her from crashing to the floor, able instead to gently lower her and sit with her there on the carpet. _Oh, Charlie… I'm sorry. I'm so sorry._ The left side of her face was a vivid red and would likely start bruising soon. Wheeler's blows had irritated the injured eye, causing it to swell again, though not nearly as bad as John's. Blood was smeared on her cheeks as if someone (Wheeler) had grabbed her face, which was splotchy and wet with tears.

Chet swallowed around the lump in his throat, slowly reaching up to brush some the damp hair off her face, careful to be gentle around the injured flesh. His hand moved up to her forehead, smoothing her hair back. _This is what Mom used to do for us after Dad died, remember? She would sit there with us while we cried and try to make us feel better even though she probably wanted to cry so bad herself. She did it for me when I brought Brian home, when I was acting like goddamn human wreckage. I couldn't help him, couldn't save him, couldn't keep him safe…_ Chet felt his eyes fill with tears, felt his lip trembling.

"We're okay now," he whispered thickly, his voice breaking, "You're-you're okay now. You're safe… safe-"

He made himself choke down the sob trying to force its way out, instead pulling his sister in for an embrace, burying his face in her shoulder and hair. Charlie mirrored him, pulling in a shuddering breath as she did so. As soon as her face touched his shirt, a sob burst out of her, as if she'd been holding it in since Friday when this whole ordeal started. Chet wanted to scream. He wanted to rage. He wanted to mutilate that bastard Wheeler's body until it was unrecognizable. Most of all, he just wanted to cry. He'd wanted to cry for days at the unfairness of everything. _Not now. Not when she's breaking. I'll cry later… I need to be strong now._ A few tears escaped, nonetheless, lost in her dark hair as he held her close and tried to soothe her sobbing.

The B-Shift paramedics had showed up, unsuccessfully trying to coax Roy from John's side as he ushered them to look after Wheeler instead. One of them, Clearwater, announced Wheeler was still alive, though he'd suffered massive head trauma, and would need an ambulance immediately. Chet ignored what they were doing with Wheeler and tried to focus on what Roy was saying to the police.

"…'cause John here can't talk yet, and Charlie over there was basically frozen when we got here, though she had that bat in her hands. That's, uh, that's her brother with her… Chet. You guys know Chet. I've got John pretty well looked over…"

Roy explained John's injuries while Wheeler was prepped for the ambulance. Chet heard Roy mention facial injuries, a possible broken nose, those strangulation injuries, and more damage to his previously injured shoulder and knee, so the younger paramedic was prepped for a second ambulance. The remaining B-Shift paramedic eyed Chet and Charlie, so Chet carefully pulled back from his sister, wiping at his face.

"Listen, Charlie, I-I really want Roy to check you over," he told her softly, gently brushing the tears off her face, "You might need to go to Rampart, and I just wanna be sure you're okay, alright?"

She nodded, hiccoughing quietly and sniffing. Chet helped her to feet and led her over to Roy and John. An officer spoke with him while Roy checked his sister over, though his story was the same as Roy's, not really providing any new information. Shortly after, John and Charlie were carted off to Rampart, leaving Roy and Chet standing in John's wrecked apartment with two officers who were waiting for detectives.

"Come on, Chet," Roy muttered, "I'll drive you to Rampart…"

He touched Chet gently on the arm to get him going, leading him down to the parking lot to his old Chevy pickup. Chet was silent. He felt strange, numb and relieved and angry all at once. The emotions butted against one another, not meant to be felt at the same time and battling for dominance. Their ordeal was over, but it didn't truly feel like it because Wheeler was still alive. Chet realized with a jolt that he'd always pictured this ordeal ending with Wheeler's death without even knowing he was doing it. Visions of prolonged court battles stormed through his mind, making him feel uptight and twitchy. He scrubbed at his face as Roy pulled into the parking lot at Rampart.

"It's gonna be alright now, Chet," Roy told him gently, like he was talking to a patient, "Charlie's gonna be just fine, and so is John. This whole, awful thing is over."

There was a beat in which neither man spoke.

"Talk to me, Chet."

He recalled his conversation with Cap earlier, about how he should consider everyone he worked with his friend, how he should trust them with his problems as much as he trusted them with his life at a call.

"It's not over," he mumbled at last.

"What do you mean?"

"It's not over, Roy. What if Wheeler lives and keeps coming after her? What if he dies and his family comes after her with a wrongful death suit? Or if they wanna press assault charges? Or murder charges? Roy, what if-?"

"Hey, calm down, Chet," Roy spoke over him, "Just take some deep breaths and-and calm down. You're gonna drive yourself nuts if you keep thinking about all these 'what-ifs' and you know that. Everything's gonna be fine. Anything Charlie did, she did it in self-defense. I think that's pretty clear, and when the detectives talk to her and Johnny, they'll see that, too."

"But, Roy-"

"No. Just breathe and calm down. It really is over now. Charlie's alright now. John's alright," Roy told him gently, "You're alright, too, Chet."

Chet looked away from the older paramedic, not wanting Roy to see his eyes filled with tears or his trembling lip. He felt Roy rest a comforting hand on his shoulder, and Chet hoped he didn't hear the choked noise it pulled from him.

"You can always talk to me if you have a problem, Chet, can talk to any one of us there at the station. I know you talk about how Charlie is some of the only family you have left, but…" Roy paused, "but me and the other guys… well, we're your family, too. Just… I just want you to remember that."

Chet didn't trust himself to speak, so he simply nodded. Roy gave his shoulder another squeeze, giving him a moment to gain control of his emotions, before saying, "Come on, Chet. Let's go inside. They'll be looking for us."

Chet nodded again, wiping at his face and at long last he muttered, "Thank you."

Roy gave him a gentle smile, replying, "You're welcome."


	7. We All Need Somebody (Epilogue)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chet wanted to lie, wanted to say that everything was fine, that Charlie was a-okay. He opened his mouth, ready to let the lie out, but it caught in his throat. Mike sat by patiently, waiting for him to compose his thoughts, for him to find the truth. Chet scrubbed at his face and finally mumbled, "It's… it all went to shit, Mike."

Things didn't really feel normal again for a long while. The department granted Chet some time off to sort everything out, offering him some time with the department psychiatrist to ensure he would be alright when he did return to work. After some nudging from Cap and Mike (separately), Chet accepted, knowing he would need help to deal with seeing his baby sister and their good friend beat to hell.

John's shoulder had been dislocated again and his PCL torn during his struggle with Wheeler, so he would be laid up for a few more weeks with recovery. The 51 rumor mill said that John was also offered time with the department shrink, although it was heavily suggested he take the appointments, while Chet had merely been told he could take them if he thought it would help. John had, after all, been nearly choked to death by a crazy person. He made light of it all in front of everyone, but Chet had it on good (Roy's) authority that John was actually having trouble sleeping through the night due to recurring nightmares of being choked. Seeing the shrink probably did him a world of good, and staying with Roy helped a lot, too.

Chet's primary concern, however, was Charlie. His sister barely spoke once they reached the hospital. Upon initial questioning by detectives, she fell into such hysterics she had to be sedated by Brackett and was very nearly strapped to the bed. Overall, she'd been largely unharmed, save for some spraining of her wrist and elbow where Wheeler had wrenched her arm and some facial bruising where she was struck. Chet sat with Charlie in the hospital for the few days she was there, sleeping in the uncomfortable Rampart chairs at her bedside. None of the doctors or nurses had the will to throw him out, not that he would have left if they had.

Alex Wheeler, suffering from a severe traumatic brain injury, died at Rampart a day after being admitted due to a number of complications. Early didn't go into detail; Chet didn't ask. He was struggling with a strange feeling of contentment following receipt of the news, struggling because he knew it was wrong to feel that way. Charlie cried when she heard, though not nearly as hard as on the first day. Chet thought she must have been crying from relief. _She could be crying because she knows she killed someone, whether she meant to or not… I know that feeling pretty well._

They didn't see Wheeler's parents until a week or so after his funeral, running into them at the police department after a meeting with the detectives working their case. Charlie tensed, shying behind Chet to hide in a way she had never done before. Mrs. Wheeler was, surprisingly, very kind, asking how Charlie and John were doing and apologizing for what her son did and asking if there was anything she could do for them. Mr. Wheeler was silent. Charlie was cleared of any wrongdoing fairly quickly and not charged with a crime. While she didn't deny hitting Wheeler with the bat, it was clear she had done so in defense of her life as well as that of John's. John was there to back her up, along with Dr. Early providing a list of their injuries sustained in his attack. Chet was extremely relieved to not have to go through a prolonged trial process. He wasn't sure either he or his sister would be able to handle it.

Despite being cleared of any wrongdoing, it was clearly difficult for Charlie to deal with knowing she was immediately responsible for someone's death, and Chet could see how much it weighed on her. Like John, she suffered from a multitude of nightmares regarding the Incident, haunted by events both real and imagined. Chet made sure they both slept with their doors open, and the merest sound of distress from his sister pulled him from sleep as quickly as the tones would. He fell into a routine of gently waking her and holding her as she wept until she cried herself into an exhausted sleep.

It was absolutely wretched. For the first time since she was born, Chet felt completely out of control and unable to help his sister. He hadn't even felt that helpless in Vietnam. Sure, he was halfway around the world, but he still felt like he could have taken on anything that could have harmed his baby sister. _What can I do now? I couldn't even help when she needed me most… and I can't help her now, either…_ The feelings of uselessness were almost crushing, were overwhelming at times, bad enough to send him into tears, though he never cried in front of Charlie. He reserved it for his shrink, and he made sure his tears were controlled, quiet. Though, there was that one time (which he would fervently deny if confronted) that he cried in front of Mike due to these feelings catching up with him.

Mike was generally very quiet unless he had something of value to contribute to the conversation. Chet had originally thought him aloof, like perhaps he thought he was better than everyone else for some reason, but he soon found that to be wildly untrue. Mike was just reserved in the group. When he was alone with any one of the guys, he opened up but never shared anything too personal. He'd been there for Chet a couple times in the past, too, when Chet was dealing with some other issues, so he knew he could trust Mike with a lot.

One day, while Charlie was invited over to Roy's to hang out with Joanne, Roy, John, and the kids, Mike called to ask if he could come over. Chet was too startled to say no.

"Just… I wanted to make sure everything was alright, y'know?" Mike told him upon arrival, "I mean… after everything that happened… I know you said you'd talk to the shrink, but sometimes you just wanna talk to someone who knows you who'll listen… so… so, I'll listen, Chet, to whatever you wanna talk about. I'm pretty good at it, after all."

_Good ol' Mike. Quiet Mike. Polite Mike._ There was no better guy in the department than Mike Stoker, in terms of skill or personality. _There's probably not a better guy in the whole world, come to think of it._

"You know what happened, I guess?"

"Cap got copies of all the police and medical reports."

That was Stoker-speak for 'Cap told me every damn thing.'

"Then I'm not sure what else there is to talk about."

"There's Charlie. How's she holdin' up?"

Chet wanted to lie, wanted to say that everything was fine, that Charlie was a-okay. He opened his mouth, ready to let the lie out, but it caught in his throat. Mike sat by patiently, waiting for him to compose his thoughts, for him to find the truth. Chet scrubbed at his face and finally mumbled, "It's… it all went to shit, Mike."

The engineer said nothing, so Chet went on, "It's been three months now, three months since me and Roy went over there and-and found Charlie and John hurt… but it still feels like it was yesterday. Charlie tells me she's fine, but she can't even sleep through the night without at least one nightmare. Always wakes up screamin' and-and cryin' and takes forever to go back to sleep. She gets all uptight at the smallest noises, won't go anywhere without me or Roy or John or Joanne. My baby sister is a wreck, just so scared and upset… and I can't fix it. I-I don't know how to make it better."

His voice was thick by the end of it. He turned wet, pleading eyes on Mike, silently begging for the answers to all his problems. When he deigned to speak at all, Mike usually had an answer for everything. He didn't look at Chet for a long moment, but when he did, his expression was thoughtful and calm. The engineer gave a soft sigh, saying, "You're not gonna like it, but I don't really have an answer for you. This seems like Charlie's having a real problem. Have you thought about asking her to visit the shrink with you? He should be alright with it. He's a good guy."

"You've seen him, too?"

Mike nodded, "Yup. I had to go my probie year after a real bad call. This big apartment building went up like a tinderbox in the very early morning. Rescue teams did what they could for the folks inside, but it got too hot too quick, and… well, you can figure out what happened next. Me and bunch of other guys were sent in to do recovery, and I'll just say that it wasn't good. You know how I get around blood and stuff, so I had a pretty rough time of it. No one really had it easy after that day, so our captain made sure we went to see the shrink. It really helped."

"Did someone go with you?"

"No," Mike replied, shifting slightly on the couch, "but that was better for me. I live alone, so there was no one for me to really talk about everything with. Now, a lot of your problems seem like they're related to Charlie, so for her to see Doc would be really good. Doc's pretty good about letting guys come in with girlfriends and wives to talk about how work affects their home life, so I don't see why you couldn't bring your sister to an appointment, especially since this is mostly a big problem for her. I'm sure he'd say yes."

Chet chose not to pry into Mike's business for once. Mike continued, "Look, Doc's heard some pretty hard shit workin' for the department, so I'm sure he wouldn't have any problem talkin' to Charlie. Plus, he…uh, he knows how firemen operate, so that feeling of helplessness is something he can help you with. He knows how we hate feeling helpless."

Mike cast his eyes down at his lap, and Chet felt a pang in his chest. Of course. The engineer was practically safer than the captain at a scene, hanging way back with the engine. _Just how often does Mike feel helpless? How often has he had to watch one of us get injured while he waited safely over at the engine, unable to help?_

"How do you deal with it?" Chet asked quietly.

"Honestly… I talk to Doc about it."

"But… but you've never gone with anyone?"

"Nope, like I said it worked for me, though. I preferred to go alone."

Mike was still looking at his lap. Chet scrubbed at his face again, saying, "Shit, I'm sorry, Mike. I'm such an ass. I-I shouldn't be pushin' and pryin' like that. Can't keep my damn mouth shut when it oughta be…" and putting his head in his hands.

"It's alright. I wouldn't have come over if I minded you poking, 'cause you always poke at everybody. I'm here because I wanna help you out, 'cause you're having a hard time of it right now, and I really think I'm helping, so… so there."

Mike gave a firm nod at the end, as if to assure himself he was through talking. He allowed Chet to unburden, gave him a real friend to talk to about everything that was going on, someone who knew what happened and the people involved, and finally, Chet really cried. He sobbed, not caring that Mike was there or what he would think of him because it just felt _so damn good_ to just let it all out when he'd been holding it in for so long. Mike said nothing, simply resting a hand on the back of Chet's head, just at the base of his skull, occasionally letting it slide down to rub Chet's back soothingly.

Roy brought Charlie home after a few hours, obviously surprised at Mike's presence. Charlie jumped at the unexpected visitor, but greeted him, "Oh, hi, Mike. What's up?"

"Not much. Just thought I'd come over and hang out with Chet for a bit, catch some football… was just gettin' ready to leave actually. I'll see you around, Charlie, Chet."

Chet took a good look at his sister after Mike left. She looked tired, with dark circles under her eyes and too pale skin and less weight on her frame than he would have liked. Her fingers twisted the hem of her t-shirt absently, muscles twitching under her skin in places. Chet cleared his throat quietly, but Charlie jumped dramatically anyway, turning wide eyes on her elder brother, her whole body tense.

"Charlie," he told her slowly, "I… I really think… I really want you to come with me to see the shrink about what happened. You're… you're not the same, and I'm really worried about you. It'll help you, I think… and so does Mike. I'm gonna give the doc a call and see if it's okay, and if it is, I want you to come. This is guy is great, he really is. He knows what's up."

"I-I dunno, Chet. I don't-"

"Please, Charlie. _Please_ , come with me."

When she agreed, he let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

xXxXx

Mike stood off to the side in Roy's backyard, letting Roy and Cap man the grill and watched Joanne, Ginny, and Adora laugh at some private joke while they set the table for dinner. The Stanley girls, Debbie, Carol, and Robin (ages fourteen, eleven, and nine) were with Adora and Marco's oldest, Soledad (twelve), all of them chasing the younger children, Roy and Joanne's Chris and Jenny (six and four) and Marco's youngest Miguel (six), all around the yard. Chet, Marco, and Johnny were standing away from the playing children. Chet was telling them what was probably a bawdy tale, gesticulating wildly while John and Marco doubled over laughing.

Charlie hadn't arrived yet. Chet told everyone she was waiting on an important phone call and would come as soon as she could. He clammed up when asked what kind of phone call, but everyone really knew what it was for.

A little over a year had passed since the Incident at John's, and things finally seemed normal again. Chet had confided in him that Doc had agreed to see Charlie during some of their appointments, and as soon as she was able to really open up to someone else about what had happened, a neutral party, things got a lot better for both of them. Having someone who wasn't involved tell her that she wasn't at fault helped her a great deal, and she improved by leaps and bounds. A few months ago, Charlie confided in Chet and Mike that she wanted to become a fire/rescue dispatcher for LA County.

"Really? A dispatcher, Charlie?" Chet had asked.

"Yeah," she replied, lounging back with a beer, "I think it would be good for me. I'm gettin' sick of waiting tables and working on the odd car for almost nothing. Being a dispatcher… that would be useful. I'd be helping people, like I told you to do when Brian died. I wanna help people."

Mike put her in touch with someone he knew about getting into the department. Charlie had her final testing a few weeks prior to the party and had done well. She was even asked to do some preliminary training just to make sure she'd be a good fit. Her last day of preliminary training had been two days ago, and the department was going to call her that day to let her know the results. Mike had no doubt Charlie would do fine, but he was still nervous for her. She'd told them two trainees washed out early on, unable to handle the stress of the job. Another failed a typing test. One more went because he couldn't deal with the public. The few remaining, including Charlie, were all very good, though Charlie was the only woman. Mike didn't know if or how that would affect anything.

A small commotion drew Mike's attention to the DeSoto's sliding door.

"There she is!"

"Well, Charlie, how'd you do?"

"How was it?"

"Who'd you talk to?"

"Come on now, don't crowd the lady!" Chet called, "Let her get some air!"

The guys all laughed good-naturedly, stepping back slightly as Mike left his secluded spot to join the crowd. Charlie's expression was unreadable.

"Well, sis, you gonna dish?"

"I mean, it was a pretty long call, y'know," she told them slowly, "They had all kinds of questions for me. What did I think I could bring to the department, how did I think I handled the public and the stress, did I really think I was cut out for the job, all stuff like that."

There was a long pause, and everyone seemed to lean in, holding their breath.

"Well, then they asked me a few more questions, like, uh, like if I was sure I could handle the hours and when I could finish training to start full-time."

Another pause.

"You-you got the job?" Chet squeaked.

Charlie broke into a wide smile, nodding happily. Everyone broke out into a cheer, clapping her on the back and congratulating her. She beamed with pride. Mike felt a smile creep onto his face.

"I think the young lady deserves a beer," he said, passing her a cold bottle.

"A beer's a good start," Joanne piped up, "I only wish we had champagne!"

The barbeque quickly became a celebration for Charlie's new job. She couldn't seem to shake off her well-wishers for the better part of an hour, always receiving advice or congratulations or dispatch horror stories. Mike returned to his little corner, not wanting to crowd her more than she was, knowing he'd want some space if it were him.

"Far enough away?"

Charlie stood at his elbow, smirking up at him.

"Are you?" he countered.

She huffed out a laugh, sipping at a fresh beer, and replied, "Yeah, I finally managed to escape my adoring throng, pleasant though they are. You seemed to have found some peace and quiet, so I thought maybe I'd come disturb it."

"You're not disturbing me, Charlie."

"Always a gentleman, you are. Good guy Stoker," her smirk gentled to a small smile, "I… I wanted to thank you, Mike."

"Thank me? For what?"

"For helping me and Chet after everything that happened. He told me it was your idea for me to go to the shrink with him, and it really helped, probably more than anything else would have. I… uh, I was in a pretty bad place when you had that talk with my brother, like really dark. I'd even go so far as to say you saved my life, Mike Stoker."

Mike felt his eyes go wide. He asked quietly, "You-you weren't gonna-?"

"No no no, nothing like that, but my life would have been awful. I'd be living in constant fear, afraid of every little thing, of everyone, wallowing in guilt for something that wasn't my fault. I don't feel that way anymore… and it's all thanks to you."

"I-I didn't-… I just, uh, just made a-a suggestion," he stammered.

His face was hot with embarrassment. Mike never liked being called a hero or anything like that and for someone he knew to be saying such things was ridiculous and almost mortifying. Charlie laughed quietly, nudging him with her shoulder.

"Nice to know you don't have a complex or nothin'. Makes me feel better about speaking so highly of you. Someone like Chet, that shit goes right to his head. You gotta watch what you say around guys like him."

"Don't I know it," Mike muttered.

"You on the other hand… you're a pretty great guy, Mike. Has anyone ever told you that?"

"It's been said."

She was still smiling, sipping at her beer. His stomach gave a subtle flip as he thought back to the conversation he had with John while the paramedic was recovering from his attack. _Johnny said he kissed her… well, that she kissed him. Is there really a difference?_ John had sworn Mike to secrecy and told him about it, how he felt, how nice it was, everything. _Why is she over here with me instead of with everyone else? Does… does she wanna kiss me, too? What if she does?_ The flipping of his stomach was less subtle, heat creeping back into his face.

"Say, what do you like to do in your free time, Mike?" she asked, "The guys all say you're great, and I know you're pretty great from experience, but we don't really know a whole lot about you, just 'cause you're so quiet. You seem like you're probably interested in some really cool stuff."

"Nah, I mostly just sit around and relax when I'm not at work… go to the beach sometimes…"

"Yeah, I bet it's pretty hard to relax around the station with Chet always actin' like a numbnuts."

Mike snorted, mostly because Chet's sister said it.

"Look, you probably don't want to, but if you ever wanna hang out or something, just call me up. I'm slightly more sedate than my brother dear, and I don't pester so much. I'm pretty useless at cooking and cleaning, but I like to think I'm fairly awesome."

"Don't you think I'm a bit… old for you?"

"Really, Mike? I didn't mean it like that. I just… hell, nevermind."

"Just what?"

She shrugged, "I just figured you don't really hang out with other people so much, and I don't really hang out with other people so much anymore, either, so maybe we can be a little antisocial together. I don't mean it in, like, a dating way. It's strictly for friendship."

Mike said nothing, sipping on his beer, deep in thought. Charlie, to her credit, didn't say anything or pressure him for an answer. They simply stood side by side, watching everyone else. He found it rather pleasant to know someone else was comfortable doing what he always did, just sit by and watch.

"Things must still be really difficult for you, Charlie," Mike said after a moment.

She hummed an affirmative.

"You still don't like being alone."

It was not a question.

"No one really knows what they'll do in a situation like that until they're in one. Me? I froze. I freaked. Shit, I killed a guy. Beat him to death with a baseball bat. Sure, he was a scumbag, but it still happened, and… and I'm not sure I'll ever be quite over it. Maybe I never will be. It's something that sticks with you, that's for sure."

Mike cast his gaze on her, finding her expression to be wistful and sad. His face grew hot.

"Shit, I'm sorry. I-I didn't mean to-to bring that all up for you again, Charlie."

"You say that like it isn't always on my mind already. I just… I think hangin' with you… you won't talk about it as much. You won't bug me about stuff or treat me like I'll break at any second. You're a good guy, Mike, and… I think I really need to hang out with someone who's genuinely, truly good."

"I can't make any promises."

"That's fine. I don't wanna make you uncomfortable or intrude or anything. Just… just if you want to."

Mike nodded. Charlie nodded back. Their deal was struck, and an interesting deal it was. Debbie, Carol, Robin, and Soledad hurried over, whisking them away for dinner, Chris and Jenny and Miguel in tow. Roy and Cap laid out quite a spread of burgers and hot dogs and brats. Other dishes were full of coleslaw, potato salad, pasta salad, and every other side imaginable. The picnic tables were practically groaning under the weight of it all. Charlie plunked herself down between her brother and Mike, and Mike felt a strange pride bloom in his chest, thinking perhaps it meant he made her feel safe, just as safe as her brother did. He could think of no higher compliment.

"Hey everyone," Cap announced, standing by Roy at the head of the picnic table, "Let's hear it for Charlie Kelly, LA County's newest fire/rescue dispatcher!"

Charlie beamed at everyone cheering her once more. Everything felt like it could maybe be normal again. Mike and Chet cheered her louder than anyone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks a bunch to everyone who's been following and enjoying this story. I certainly appreciate all your kudos and lovely comments. Fic is a great escape for both writer and reader, and I love putting something out there that other people enjoy. To get this kind of appreciation from this fandom means a lot, especially since I'm probably a decade or two younger than most E! fans. I'm thankful to the E! fic veterans for being so kind in letting a newcomer play in the playground with them (you).
> 
> And maybe, just maybe... there's a sequel of one sort or another in the works.


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